


blue sky

by gunwoong



Category: The Boyz (Korea Band)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Haknyeon POV, M/M, Miscommunication, exploring The 2020 Sunhak Beef, friends to enemies to lovers (sort of)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:33:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25920631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gunwoong/pseuds/gunwoong
Summary: Haknyeon doesn't know why Sunwoo is treating him like a stranger. He tries to let it go, but when it starts to affect their job, Haknyeon confronts him. And that's when things go from bad to worse.
Relationships: Ju Haknyeon/Kim Sunwoo
Comments: 49
Kudos: 255





	blue sky

**Author's Note:**

> this sat in my drafts as a 2k words-long drabble from february until? june? when it turned into 20k words. i still have no idea how that happened. this does not feel like a 20k words fic at all.
> 
> big thanks to [jenny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/purpletulips), as always! and title from oneus' "[blue sky](https://youtu.be/YmykbBeqpFA)" because the lyrics fit surprisingly well.
> 
> **CONTENT WARNING** : physical aggression (someone throws a punch); detailed description of something akin to a panic attack; drinking; brief mentions of vomit/vomiting.

As with most things in his life, things go to shit when Haknyeon is least expecting it.

Maybe he should’ve known better than to do it. Maybe he should’ve calculated the risks before acting like things were ok when they very clearly weren’t. But by the time he realizes that, it’s too late.

It’s a fansign, one of the very few they’re doing this time around. Things have gone smoothly so far, which is great, because Haknyeon is tired, and he fears he might start zoning out any time soon. Maybe his exhaustion is what makes him forget momentarily that he shouldn’t be tapping Sunwoo’s arm to get his attention, but honestly, Haknyeon doesn’t think about it. It’s so second nature to him, he just does it. Sunwoo ignores him the first time, but when a fan gives him a hat that looks absolutely _ridiculous_ , Haknyeon laughs and taps his arm again.

“Sunwoo, look—Look, it suits me, doesn’t it?”

Sunwoo yanks his arm away from Haknyeon’s reach, angrily. It’s not the kind of pulling back that can be explained away as surprise, or unpreparedness. It’s plain to see; he’s pissed off, and he isn’t joking when he barks, “I don’t care.”

In the span of a second, Haknyeon looks at his face, but Sunwoo isn’t looking at him, so he looks back to the fan in front of him. She’s eyeing Sunwoo with a mix of curiosity and surprise, and Haknyeon does his best to bring her attention back to him, using a joke about Sunwoo acting like a grumpy old man to distract her from what just happened. There are sirens going on in his head, not just about how this particular fan might react to this, but all the other fans with cameras pointed towards them, too. It’s a worst case scenario, and he does everything in his power to pretend like that was nothing, laughing and cracking jokes until the fan is laughing with him, flustered at the onslaught of fanservice.

When she moves on to Changmin next to him, Haknyeon makes sure to pose for his fansite cameras, doing his best to look unbothered. He doesn’t know if he succeeds, though, because he feels angry. Betrayed, in a way. Maybe Haknyeon should’ve known better than to include Sunwoo in his jokes, but Sunwoo _definitely_ should’ve known better than to react the way he did. It was irresponsible, careless. They couldn’t afford that, none of them. Haknyeon much less.

It angers him, most of all, because he doesn’t know what brought it on. They have been doing this weird push and shove dance for a while now, and it’s been _shove_ more often than not, particularly from Sunwoo’s side. It makes no sense, because Haknyeon can’t explain what happened.

One day they were good friends, the next they were friends, and then all of a sudden Sunwoo felt like a stranger. It was off-putting, and it took Haknyeon a while to get used to it. He isn’t entirely used to it because he doesn’t think he can be—he has grown to see Sunwoo as one of the few people he trusts his life with, someone who has been with him through thick and thin, like very few others. Haknyeon can count on the fingers of one hand how many people he trusts like that. To see one of these people turn a cold shoulder on him isn’t just surprising; it hurts. So much so that Haknyeon is blindsided, unsure how he should be acting now.

He doesn’t want to think he’s lost a friend, but that’s what it feels like.

And Haknyeon doesn’t deal well with pain. He would like to think he does, but truth is, pain makes him question himself and those around him, which is the last thing he needs. He doesn’t need to be questioning himself, if he’s doing the right thing, if this is worth it—he knows it is, and he knows he is. But pain feels like a punishment, like he did something to deserve it. Except he doesn’t know what he did. If his heart hurts right now, seeing one of the closest people in his life turn into a complete stranger, it’s for reasons he can’t begin to understand. And with that comes the doubting, the second-guessing. He hates it. It angers him, confuses him.

The fact that Sunwoo is letting that affect their work only fuels the anger inside him.

Which is why he goes find Sunwoo a couple of days later. They’re done with schedules for the day, and Haknyeon waits until after dinner, when everyone has a couple of hours to themselves before practice starts, to knock on the open door to Sunwoo, Kevin, and Changmin’s room. 

Sunwoo is there by himself, typing on his laptop, a notebook with hastily scribbled notes next to him on the bed. He’s working on lyrics, and Haknyeon knows that because he has found him in that exact same position so many times before. When he knocks, Sunwoo looks up at him briefly and then down at the screen again.

“Can we talk?” Haknyeon asks, walking into the room. 

Sunwoo nods, but doesn’t take his eyes off the screen. It rubs Haknyeon the wrong way, because he has been doing that for weeks now, avoiding his eyes like he can’t even look Haknyeon in the face. 

“Can you at least look at me?”

Sunwoo closes his laptop and sets it aside, shifting forward on the bed until he sets his feet on the floor. Finally, he looks up at Haknyeon. “Yes, hyung?”

It feels wrong. Sunwoo’s voice is flat, uninterested. Haknyeon can’t tell if he’s genuinely not interested, or if he’s putting up a front, but either way, it doesn’t help. Haknyeon feels anger bubbling up inside of him, but he quiets it down enough to say, “I wanted to talk about the other day at the fansign…”

Sunwoo snorts. Haknyeon is so taken aback he pauses.

“This is serious, Sunwoo.”

“Of course it is.”

“And you think that’s funny?” His voice is getting louder, but he doesn’t care. “You were being an actual ass to me. Do you even realize that? I don’t care if you’re an ass to me in private, and I don’t care if you want people to think you’re edgy or whatever the fuck, but you can’t do that in public. You can’t do that in front of fans. You know that.”

“Do I, now?” Sunwoo stands up, voice rising too. He steps closer until they’re face to face, toes almost touching. The few inches he has on Haknyeon are more obvious than ever like this. “I didn’t know refusing to be your fanservice prop was considered rude.”

“My fanservice—? _Fuck you_ ,” Haknyeon is close to shouting now, but he still doesn’t care. He’s so angry he doesn’t realize their loud voices have brought someone to the door. “That’s not what this is about.”

“It’s not? It sure looks like it from where I’m standing.”

“Maybe if you took your head out of your ass—”

“What do you want, Haknyeon?” Sunwoo asks, tone vicious, cutting. “Huh? What is it? Because you can’t expect me to act like nothing’s wrong. I can’t do that.”

“Be fucking civil to me, it’s not that hard.”

“Well, maybe it is!” Sunwoo throws his hands up, then brings them back down to say, staring right into Haknyeon’s eyes. “Because I can’t be as fake as you are, hyung. No one fucking can. That’s a Haknyeon specialty. You’re empty.”

Haknyeon’s anger boils over. If he thought he felt betrayed before, this feels like Sunwoo just stabbed him through the stomach and twisted the knife; it hurts, it _physically_ hurts. It’s so unfair, and it’s such a perfectly constructed way to affect him, it feels twice as cruel. Sunwoo knows what he’s doing, he knows how those words in particular would make Haknyeon feel. It’s too much. Before he can think it through, Haknyeon’s fist connects with Sunwoo’s cheek, making him stumble backwards with the force of the blow.

The moment it happens, Haknyeon’s anger evaporates. Cold washes over him just as Kevin gets between them, pushing Haknyeon by the shoulders, trying to get him to back off. “What the fuck is going on here? What the fuck?”

In the confusion, Haknyeon meets Sunwoo’s eyes. Sunwoo looks shocked speechless, a hand on his face like he can’t believe what just happened. Haknyeon can’t believe it either. They stare at each other for a second before Kevin is pushing Haknyeon out of the room. They brush past a wild-eyed Jacob, brought to their room by the commotion; Kevin says something in English to him, but Haknyeon is so out of it he doesn’t register the words. He lets Kevin take him to the living room at first, but before Kevin can get him to sit on the couch, he turns around.

“Wait, I need to apologize—“

“Not a chance,” Kevin says, holding his ground and blocking Haknyeon’s way. “You’re not getting anywhere near him right now.”

Defeated, Haknyeon sits down on the couch. He’s still so shocked he stares at his right hand, at the weird, numb pain on his knuckles. 

“I can’t believe you did that,” Kevin is saying. He sounds angry, and that’s enough to get Haknyeon to look up at him again. “I literally can’t. I don’t even—What happened there? Who _are_ you? The Haknyeon I know would never do that. Not in a million years.” 

Haknyeon wants to explain himself, wants to say something, anything, but he can’t find the words for it. He stares at his hand like he can see his mistake there, tattooed on his skin. That was so wrong. He was so wrong. He shouldn’t have done that. Never. There was no excuse for it, no explanation, no—

“Hey,” Kevin calls, this time gentler, less angry. He kneels down in front of him, and Haknyeon looks at him, only now realizing his vision is blurry—he has tears in his eyes. “Stay with me, talk to me. What happened?”

“I hit him,” Haknyeon says, pointlessly, and it comes out like vomit, like a sob that’s been lodged in his throat for too long. He doesn’t even realize he’s about to cry until his voice cracks. “I was so angry, but I shouldn’t have. Hyung, I shouldn’t have…”

“No, you shouldn’t,” Kevin says. He takes Haknyeon’s hand in both of his, _the_ hand. Haknyeon is shaking slightly, he notices now. He almost panics, because is he losing it? Is he having some sort of crisis? But Kevin is there, still talking, keeping him focused, “That was not ok. But breathe first, worry about your actions later. You look like you’re about to pass out.”

Haknyeon lets out a weak laugh, not really sure if Kevin meant it as a joke or if he really does look like he’s a second away from fainting. He tries taking a deep breath, wiping at his eyes before any tears can threaten to come down. Sunwoo’s shocked face comes back to him. He takes another breath, this time feeling it shake with a sob. Before he knows it, he’s following Kevin’s voice, matching his inhales and exhales, seeing more than feeling when his hands stop shaking. 

“All right,” Kevin says after a while, when Haknyeon can breathe again and it doesn’t feel like he’s about to lose his senses, even though he still feels awful. “Ok, good. We’re good. You’re good.”

He sits down next to Haknyeon on the couch with a sigh, letting go of his hands for that. Haknyeon doesn’t move. He doesn’t know what he should be doing right now. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“I don’t know what to say,” his voice comes out hoarse, so he clears his throat. “I don’t know why—Fuck.”

He hides his face behind his hands. He can’t stop thinking about it. Sunwoo’s face. The shock in his eyes. How did it come to this? Why, _why_ would Haknyeon ever do that? The only times he had ever resorted to violence were in self-defense, when he was a kid with too much heart to see injustice and not do something about it. This? There is nothing fair about it, this isn’t justice. He hit Sunwoo. Someone he cares about, someone who trusts him. He hit him without a second thought, and that makes Haknyeon feel so dirty. The regret he’s feeling just isn’t bigger than the disgust towards himself.

“Start from the beginning,” Kevin suggests.

What is the beginning?

“I don’t know. I don’t know why this is happening. He just hates my guts, I guess. If he didn’t he does now, anyway.”

“Sunwoo?” Kevin asks, and he sounds so surprised Haknyeon doesn’t have to look to know he’s pulling a face. “He could never hate you.”

“I punched him. In the face.”

“I mean, yes, that was an absolute dick move. And we’ll have to talk about that. But before this, he didn’t hate you. Are you crazy? It’s Sunwoo. He worships the ground you walk on.” 

Haknyeon bites the inside of his cheeks. How can he explain that Sunwoo has been ignoring him without sounding like he’s on the defensive after literally decking him? How can he explain that Sunwoo has been cold towards him without telling Kevin about the incident at the fansign—something he hasn’t told anyone about, for fear it might bite both of them in the ass?

“Things are weird between us. Have been weird for a while now,” Haknyeon tries, because the alternative to this conversation is dealing with his own thoughts, and he can’t. He needs to keep talking to keep Sunwoo’s shocked face out of his head, he needs to distract himself before he works himself over again. “I tried talking to him, and—“ He uses his hands when words fail him, gesticulating to say _this happened_.

“I heard part of the argument,” Kevin says. When Haknyeon looks at him, he interprets it as judgement, raising his hands. “You were both being really loud.”

“I know, that’s not—It’s fine. I’m sorry. I’m really fucking sorry.”

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.”

Haknyeon swallows dry, nods. “I know.”

Now that Haknyeon is looking at Kevin, he notices the bags under his eyes, the way his bangs are spilling out from under his beanie. He looks tired, and Haknyeon feels bad for making him deal with this. Their day is busy as it is, without the added stress of a literal fistfight on top of it.

“I’ll go check on him, see what he says. I still don’t think you two should be around each other for now, but we’ll see.” 

Haknyeon doesn’t say anything to that, because it’s understandable. They’re the only people in the dorm aside from Juyeon, who turned in for a nap and apparently slept through the whole thing. There are consequences to think of, right? Haknyeon knows there are. He can’t think straight right now, but there are rules. That much he knows. 

“But I _do_ think you need to apologize,” Kevin continues. “Because that was messed up. And I don’t care how bad it is between you two right now, Sunwoo doesn’t deserve that. Violence is not the answer, but even if it were, he’d rank really low on my list of people who deserve to get punched in the face.”

“You don’t need to tell me that,” Haknyeon says, because he knows that. He really does. His tone comes off as snippy, though, as Kevin gives him a look and stands up.

“Well, apparently I do, honey. I’ll go check on him. Stay here.”

Haknyeon does as he’s told. The entire time Kevin is gone, he just sits there, locked in place with his thoughts. He hates it. This situation, this night, himself. He still can’t believe he hurt Sunwoo. Will he ever be able to forgive himself? He half doesn’t expect Sunwoo to forgive him. He meant it when he said it to Kevin—if Sunwoo didn’t hate him before, now he definitely does. And that would be within reason. He’d be totally in his right to do so.

The thing is, Sunwoo hurt him, too. Haknyeon is aware of that, he knows Sunwoo played dirty, using Haknyeon’s own insecurities against him. How many times in the past has Haknyeon confided in Sunwoo, about wanting to be a better son, a better brother, and a better friend? How many times did he share his fears that he was too harsh, too blunt, generally bad at expressing affection, to the point where he feared he was empty, incapable of loving people as they deserved to be loved? _Empty_. The exact same word Sunwoo used. The fact that Sunwoo would throw that in his face now is downright cruel. He doesn’t know what he did to deserve it, he truly doesn’t, but he also doesn’t think he reacted in the best of ways. Everything about this is wrong. Everything about it hurts.

Haknyeon misses him so much. 

He misses their friendship, as broken as it is now. He misses their companionship, and how they were always there for each other in the beginning. He misses looking at Sunwoo and finding his eyes on him already, so fond, so full of love. They had something. It was special. It was a bond that Haknyeon didn’t think could ever be broken.

But he has been wrong before.

By the time Kevin comes back, Haknyeon is silently crying again. He wipes the tears away quickly, standing up. 

Kevin gives him a look that betrays worry, and says, “He’s staying in for the night, so feel free to go to practice, and everything. He’ll be in his room. I suggest you don’t go talk to him tonight, though. It’s for the best. You’re both really shaken up right now…”

“How is he?” Haknyeon asks.

“Not great, honestly. But that’s to be expected, all things considered.”

“His face…?”

“It’s not that bad,” Kevin says. He looks sad, worried. “If you wanna sit out practice too it’s ok, I can cover for you, say you were tired...”

Haknyeon shakes his head. “No, thanks, hyung. I don’t think I should be alone with my thoughts tonight. Practice will be good.” 

Kevin purses his lips in worry. He looks like he wants to say more, but Haknyeon knows he’s too considerate for that, too mindful of Haknyeon’s state right now, no matter how much he wants to chastise him for what happened. Haknyeon feels bad for putting him in this position. He was clearly freaked out by what he witnessed, and Haknyeon can’t say he blames him. Even though they’re not the closest they could be, they’re still friends, and close enough that Haknyeon knows this is way too much to be asking of Kevin. So he doesn’t. 

Kevin nods. “Ok, love. Lemme know if you need anything, though. If you need to talk, you know where to find me. And please, no more surprises today.”

Haknyeon gives him a small, apologetic smile. Kevin gives him a friendly squeeze on the arm in return. He doesn’t leave immediately, clearly still worried, but eventually he walks out of the living room, leaving Haknyeon there, unsure what to do next. He hears the bathroom door open and close, and decides to head to the company early, even though practice doesn’t start for another half an hour. But he figures leaving the dorm is the best thing he can do right now. If anything, the night air might help clear his head.

It doesn’t, not really. He keeps thinking back to Sunwoo, alone in his room, nursing a probably bruised cheek. He’s distracted during practice, getting things wrong, missing the timing, but no one tells him off, and Changmin is surprisingly lenient today. Haknyeon doesn’t know if Kevin or Jacob said something, or if he’s just in a good mood, but Haknyeon appreciates the respite. With the way his emotions are all over the place, prickling under his skin, ready to overflow at any given second, he thinks it’s a good idea if no one is paying him much attention. He tries not to focus on the empty spot in their formation. It’s hard, but he tries to dive head first into work and forget himself for a moment.

Practice ends past 2am, by which time Haknyeon is exhausted. Physically, absurdly exhausted. He wants nothing more than to take a shower and sleep, but when he lays his head on the pillow, sleep doesn’t come. He tosses and turns, getting more and more frustrated by the second. He picks up his phone, answers a couple of texts, and thinks about turning on a podcast just to shut up his own thoughts, but he doesn’t leave the Kakaotalk app. Instead, he scrolls down his list of chats until he reaches Sunwoo’s. 

They haven’t sent any new messages recently. They never did text a lot to begin with, preferring to talk face to face when they could, using their chat to send links and dumb memes, but still. Haknyeon stares at the open chat for far too long, until finally he brings up the keyboard and sends:

**juhaknyeon [2:48]:**

I’m sorry

I’m really REALLY sorry

He stares at the messages, not really expecting anything, when he sees the check mark go from _sent_ to _read_. Before he can get antsy waiting for a reply, he sees Sunwoo is typing.

**TBZ Sunwoo [2:50]:**

i’m not gonna say it’s fine, because it’s not

but apology accepted

and i’m sorry too

There are a dozen different things Haknyeon wants to say. He wants to apologize again, and again, and again, thinking once is just not enough. He wants to ask what he did wrong to get that kind of treatment from Sunwoo in the first place. He wants to understand where they stand, and why their friendship doesn’t feel like a friendship anymore. He wants to ask how Sunwoo is feeling, because he’s worried sick thinking about Kevin describing Sunwoo as _not great_. He wants to say so many things at once, he feels tongue-tied. He settles on:

**juhaknyeon [2:51]:**

what happened to us? 

**TBZ Sunwoo [2:51]:**

you tell me

**juhaknyeon [2:52]:**

I didn’t do this

**TBZ Sunwoo [2:52]:**

right

i’m sorry again i was an ass 

it won’t happen again

i’ll leave you alone

**juhaknyeon [02:53]:**

I don’t want that tho

**TBZ Sunwoo [02:53]:**

? and what do you want?

**juhaknyeon [02:53]:**

I want things to go back to normal

to how they were

idk what happened

how we got here

**TBZ Sunwoo [02:54]:**

we’re exactly where we’re supposed to be

you know that better than anyone

**juhaknyeon [2:54]:**

I dont????? 

Sunwoo doesn’t answer, and Haknyeon’s message goes unread. He’s frustrated. He doesn’t feel like he has any right to demand answers right now, but seriously? What the fuck does any of that even mean? Exactly where they’re supposed to be? What? 

He ends up choosing a podcast to fall asleep to. It’s better to focus on the soothing voice of the narrator than to flood Sunwoo’s chats with messages he’s gonna ignore, anyway. They can talk in person tomorrow. They can always talk. 

Right? 

Sunwoo is missing their schedule for the day. Kevin explains it to a half-awake Haknyeon before he walks into the bathroom, whispering so the rest of the members spread around the apartment can’t hear them. Sunwoo’s cheek is bruised—it’s small, barely noticeable and easily concealed with make-up, but they can’t hide it from the make-up artists, and they’d rather avoid the fuss. Sunwoo isn’t reporting their fight. _Reporting_. Kevin uses that word and Haknyeon sobers up immediately, stomach clenching at how awful it sounds. He thanks Kevin for letting him know, and tries his best not to look like he wants to throw up as they get ready to leave. Because he does.

Before they leave the apartment, Haknyeon stops by the kitchen. Sunwoo is preparing something—a smoothie, considering he’s by the blender chopping fruits into small pieces. He’s relaxed, not in a hurry at all, since he’s not sharing breakfast time with ten other people. Haknyeon stops by the doorway and clears his throat. Sunwoo sees him but looks down again at the banana he’s slicing.

Haknyeon walks closer, leaning against the counter, next to him. He can’t see the bruise, not even from this up close, and as much as he wants to think he’s glad, that it’s not that bad if a concealer can do the job, he knows Sunwoo is missing a schedule because of it. Because of him. Haknyeon feels so guilty, he almost wishes Sunwoo had punched him too. Scratch that. He wishes Sunwoo had punched him too. 

“How are you?” He asks.

Sunwoo doesn’t meet his eyes. “Good. You?”

Haknyeon shrugs. He’s eyeing the banana Sunwoo is currently slicing, and Sunwoo must notice it because he uses a fork to pick up a slice and offer it to him. Haknyeon eats it off the fork, which gives them a couple of seconds of silence. 

They hear Hyunjae calling for Haknyeon from the hallway outside their apartment. He yells back, “I’m coming,” but doesn’t move right away. He’s looking at Sunwoo, at the dark circles under his eyes that spell out a night of little sleep. All the bite from last night, all the anger, seems to be gone. He looks deflated. Harmless. 

Sunwoo doesn’t look up. He keeps slicing. 

“I never went away,” Haknyeon says. “ _You_ pushed me away, and I respected that. I thought you needed the space. I thought you were gonna let me back in at some point, I thought—“

“Dude, seriously,” Hyunjae walks into the kitchen, goes straight to where they’re standing and plucks a banana slice from Sunwoo’s plate, throwing it into his mouth. “Chanhee’s threatening to superglue your balls if we don’t leave right now. Not saying he’s gonna go through with it, but he hasn’t had any coffee yet. So.” 

“I’m coming,” Haknyeon says, turning to follow Hyunjae out of the kitchen. He stops for a second at the doorway. Sunwoo looks up. They stare at each other, but no one says anything. Haknyeon purses his lips, offering a tiny goodbye wave, and heads out.

The official story is that Sunwoo woke up indisposed after one too many weird late night snacks. Kevin knows what happened, and so does Jacob, but Haknyeon isn’t sure anyone else is aware. He’s half expecting Chanhee or Changmin to say something, but they don’t. They do all the blocking they need to do for the shooting that’s happening the next day, and some members get their solo shots out of the way. They have an interview, too, that gets postponed like so many other schedules they had planned for this period. They end up getting back earlier than expected, agreeing on getting some more practice with the two hours they saved. Sunwoo joins them, wearing a mask, but claiming to be better of his “indisposition”.

Haknyeon himself thinks he does a good job of pretending nothing’s out of the ordinary, but later, as they disperse to get dinner or a nap or whatever it is the others are doing, he hears someone jogging to catch up to him in the hallway.

“Hey,” Juyeon says with a smile. “Wanna get something to eat? My treat.”

Haknyeon eyes him suspiciously. “Why?”

“I’m hungry?” Juyeon chuckles good-naturedly. 

They reach the small conference room Haknyeon usually chooses to eat in; it’s out of the way, so people don’t usually come here, and the Wi-Fi signal is strong, which means he usually eats while catching up on whatever he’s watching at the moment. It’s a recent habit of his. He usually shared a meal with whoever was available at the dorm, or went out to eat at one of the nearby places, but since everything closed down due to quarantine, and since he started to feel more alone than happy at the dorm, he switched to this room. It’s not that bad, really.

Juyeon eyes the room curiously. 

“I’ve never been here, I think?”

“We had a couple of meetings here, way before, but it’s been a while.” Haknyeon explains. He sits at the table and pulls out his phone. “What do you want?”

“Wait,” Juyeon pulls out his own phone, sitting across from him at the table. “My treat, remember? I’ll order it. What do you want?”

They make their orders and make small talk about the schedule earlier, and about practice, as they wait for their food. Juyeon is chirpy, even if Haknyeon recognizes the drawl in his voice, a sign that he’s more tired than he’s letting on. 

It’s nice, but it’s been a while since they ate together like this, so Haknyeon isn’t surprised when Juyeon asks, as they’re halfway through their hamburger sets, “Did something happen? I mean. You don’t look ok.”

“If that’s a diss you need to work on your dissing skills, hyung.”

Juyeon chuckles, “Not a diss. Seriously, what happened? You know you can talk to me, right?”

It’s so direct and earnest that Haknyeon doesn’t know how to answer at first. It’s touching, too, because maybe he’s not that good of an actor to pretend he’s fine when he so clearly isn’t, but it still means a lot to him that Juyeon not only noticed it but decided to do something about it. He stares at his hamburger. 

“Sunwoo and I fought,” he says. It comes out in a monotone voice. 

“Ah,” is Juyeon’s answer. He doesn’t say anything for a minute, eating his fries and thinking. He points a fry at Haknyeon. “You fought with him? Or the other way around?”

Haknyeon frowns, confused. “I don’t know? What do you mean? We yelled at each other.”

“But why did you fight? Did one of you do something? That’s the only reason I can imagine you two would fight, is what I mean. You never fought before.”

“We _did_ fight before,” Haknyeon corrects him, but it sounds like a lie to his own ears. He adds, “But not like this, yeah. You’re right. We fought over stupid shit before, and it never ended with—“

_With me punching him_ , he almost says, but stops himself. Juyeon is watching him, still waving french fries around like they’re magical wands, or laser pointers. “That’s what I mean, like, you look sad. Too sad for it not to be serious. Come to think of it, both of you do… I thought he was just sick. But whatever it is, Hak, you know you can talk to me, right? I’m here.”

Haknyeon knows that, and is immensely grateful for it. He knows Juyeon is a good listener, has always been, even if his advice isn’t always the best. But he listens, and he’s such a good, reliable friend, that Haknyeon doesn’t realize how much he needs someone to talk to—someone who hasn’t seen the worst of him, who hasn’t witnessed firsthand what happened—until that person is right there, sitting across from him, eating both of their fries now. 

So he talks. He needs to backtrack and explain himself a couple of times, because he doesn’t understand it himself, but he relays every single instance of Sunwoo being cold towards him that he can remember, culminating in that fansign. When he gets to their argument the night before, Haknyeon wonders briefly if he should leave the punch out, solely because he doesn’t want Juyeon to worry too much about what it means for the group as a whole, as he always does, but he figures that lying or omitting information can be just as bad right now. Juyeon listens attentively, asking for clarification when he needs it, but otherwise letting Haknyeon explain everything. It feels like venting, and when he’s finally done, his shoulders feel a little less heavy. 

Juyeon doesn’t say anything at first. He looks down, forehead creased in thought, before he looks at Haknyeon again, “We noticed it too, you know.”

Haknyeon blinks. “Who’s ‘we’?”

“Me, Hyunjae hyung,” Juyeon explains, counting on his fingers. “Sangyeon hyung asked if we noticed something wrong. And Eric too. He was the first one to bring it up, actually. But that’s weird, isn’t it?”

“What is?”

“The fact that he just changed the way he acts around you, out of nowhere.”

Haknyeon takes the last bite out of his hamburger, wiping his hands on a napkin. He nods as he chews it down, processing the information that they weren’t as discreet as Haknheon had hoped. Well, Sunwoo hadn’t been. 

“It’s weird, and it’s fucking unfair,” he says, taking a sip of his water. “I mean, if at least I knew why he’s acting weird. He wouldn’t just pull away for no reason. Right? I’m not that shitty of a friend, am I?” 

It must come out more anxious than he was going for, because Juyeon leans forward on his chair immediately, “You’re an amazing friend. Don’t think for a second you’re not.” 

“Sunwoo must’ve missed that memo.”

“Fuck him,” Juyeon says, and it’s such a quick, incisive reaction, so uncharacteristic of him that Haknyeon widens his eyes in surprise. “I mean, he’s still my friend, but this isn’t right. What he’s doing to you right now is just wrong. Fuck him for treating you like this.”

Haknyeon is still so taken aback by Juyeon’s reaction that he can’t help but grin, amused. “I did hit in the face, though.”

“Maybe he had it coming,” Juyeon says, making Haknyeon laugh. He laughs because he knows Juyeon doesn’t really mean it; he’s showing support, trying to make Haknyeon feel better, and that’s so welcome now. Juyeon smiles too, “What? I can’t tell him to go fuck himself?”

“You can’t,” Haknyeon says, laughing harder and making Juyeon laugh with him. “It’s funny to imagine his face hearing that, though.”

They don’t say anything for a while. Juyeon finishes their fries, and Haknyeon finishes his water. There’s a lot Haknyeon still doesn’t understand, but putting it out in the open like this helped. He feels less crazy, for starters; Juyeon agrees that it’s weird. He feels less alone, too, knowing that no matter how much Sunwoo’s actions and words hurt, not everyone thinks that low of him.

“Are you gonna talk to him?” Juyeon asks, tentatively, throwing the idea out there.

Haknyeon knows that is the only way to at least understand what’s happening, by _communicating_ , but, “Last time I tried we ended up in each other’s faces, so I don’t know how to do that and get a different result.”

“Do you think confronting him when we’re around is a good idea?”

Haknyeon makes a face. “No. That would only make everyone worried. I don’t wanna do that.”

Juyeon thinks for a second. “I can talk to him.”

“What would you say?”

“I’d be like a diplomatic liaison,” Juyeon explains. “Like, ask him to talk to you, explain what’s wrong.”

“He could just yell at you too and I’d be twice as bummed that you put your friendship on the line for me.”

“Whatever happened was between the two of you, though,” Juyeon says. “He has no reason to take it out on me. If he does, he’s an idiot.”

Haknyeon laughs again, heartily. “Why are you so aggro? He’s your friend too!”

“I’m just spitballing here, no harm no foul,” Juyeon says, smiling until his eyes are two crescent moons. “And I wanted to make you laugh, so mission accomplished. But for real, I can talk to him, if you want.”

“I appreciate that, hyung,” Haknyeon says with a smile, because he really does. He’s so thankful, he doesn’t really know how to convey that. “I’d rather not get anyone else involved, but thanks. It’ll be fine, I’ll figure it out.”

It’s weird. In the years they’ve been together, Haknyeon has grown comfortable around the members, to the point where he doesn’t need to watch himself when he’s with them—he can focus all of his energy on the cameras, safe in the knowledge that everyone there has got his back, and vice versa. After the argument with Sunwoo, though, there is a shift. He can’t pinpoint if it’s him, wary of his every move around Sunwoo, or if it’s Sunwoo, doing everything he can to not acknowledge his existence. And as much as they try not to make it obvious, Haknyeon notices Kevin’s anxious looks and Juyeon’s hesitation whenever Haknyeon and Sunwoo need to interact during practice.

That doesn’t help. Haknyeon is hyper aware of every single time Sunwoo avoids his eyes, every single water break when he makes sure to stand as far away from Haknyeon as possible. It feels wrong. Haknyeon feels out of place, unwelcome in his own home, if that makes sense.

His mood takes a nosedive. Being quarantined wasn’t great to begin with, but being unable to meet other people right now, in this context, is torturous. It’s suffocating. Haknyeon is terse like he’s about to snap at any given moment. He feels sorry for the people who make an effort to approach him now—Eric tries, more than once, but Haknyeon can’t indulge him for long. His mood is sour, and he wants nothing more than to just get it over with: quarantine, promotions... Fuck, this whole year, even. He does his schedules, he gives his all during practice, he stays out of everyone’s way and avoids the pity looks Jacob throws at him from time to time. That’s the best he can do, really.

It’s another couple of weeks before he talks to Sunwoo again. They’re just starting to practice the new choreography, and Haknyeon almost wants to argue, but he knows better. He watches the choreographer demonstrate the step, but when it’s his turn to try it, he hesitates. Sunwoo notices his hesitation, turning around from his position to say, “It’s ok, hyung.”

His voice is low, only for Haknyeon and the choreographer to hear—especially since the others are making a lot of noise, playing with the plastic swords around them. 

Sunwoo meets Haknyeon’s eyes for what feels like the first time in maybe a month, and says it again, “It’s ok. Don’t worry, I got you.”

Haknyeon believes him. He trusts him more than he should, probably, at this point. So he walks over, giving it a try—Sunwoo is holding his hands on his back for Haknyeon to step on, offering his back for support so Haknyeon won’t lose his balance, effectively holding him up as Haknyeon finds his footing on the choreographer’s knee. It’s precarious, and Eric needs to hold onto him to keep him from toppling over, but they make it work after a few tries. In the mirror, the pose looks majestic and imponent. The choreographer says exactly that, fixing their posture and making sure they get the timing right before moving on to the next step. 

It’s not an overly taxing move, but it’s still the closest Haknyeon has been to Sunwoo in God only knows how long. He’s glad to see the tension between them doesn’t affect the choreography itself, focusing all of his energy on following the choreographer’s instructions. Sunwoo seems to be doing the same. But as soon as practice is over and they’re wiping the sweat from their brows and gathering their things, Haknyeon can’t help but look for Sunwoo, standing over to the side, chugging his water bottle. He walks over.

“Good job today,” Haknyeon says. A platitude, usually, but he means it today. Sunwoo _did_ give his all. And he hopes his underlying _thank you_ is easy enough to catch, the silent waving of a white flag.

Sunwoo looks at him before quickly looking away, nodding. “Yeah, you too, hyung.”

It’s still not the same thing, but it’s gentle enough, friendly enough, that Haknyeon smiles, if a bit sadly. He blames the post-practice endorphins for getting his hopes up, thinking that Sunwoo would react any differently now just because they managed to work together like two functional adults. Still, it’s some sort of progress, he thinks. They’re not outright fighting. That must mean something, right?

Practice goes smoothly, day after day. They’re tired but happy with the results, and there’s enough going on between schedules, preparations and filming that Haknyeon can keep his mind busy more often than not.

Sometimes, though, it’s harder to do that.

He opens LoL one night, thinking that if he doesn’t find something to distract him, he might do something dumb like break curfew, or order absurd amounts of food even though he’s not hungry. It’s late enough that only those with late night lessons are still at the company, while a few have turned in already. Alone in his room, Haknyeon waits for the screen to load and notices right away that Hyunjae is online, opening his chat.

**@hkn221 [23:49]:**

tf?? you should’ve called me

**@KING DARK7 [23:52]:**

playing w sunwoo

wanna join?

Haknyeon hesitates. He doesn’t see Sunwoo in his friends list. Which can only mean Sunwoo unfriended him, because he used to be there. It shouldn’t mean anything, it’s just a dumb game and they’re both terrible at it, much to Hyunjae’s amusement, but Haknyeon still stares at his screen, biting his lips, trying not to get too mad. Just how childish do you need to be to delete someone from fucking LoL? And what for? Did he think Haknyeon was gonna try to talk to him through the game? Was Haknyeon’s screenname enough to annoy him, to the point where he needed to unfriend him? 

He doesn’t get a chance to answer _no, thanks, fuck him_ before Hyunjae adds him to their party.

**@KING DARK7 [23:53]:**

lets goooooo

**@hkn221 [23:53]:**

i think i’m gonna go actually

**@tjsdnㅋㅋ [23:53]:**

if its bc of me i can leave

**@KING DARK7 [23:54]:**

no ones leaving!

now shut up and lets lose this w dignity

TOGETHER

and turn on voice chat hak

  
  


Unsurprisingly, they lose. It’s close, though, and for a moment they’re really close to victory—Haknyeon forgets momentarily he’s supposed to be mad at Sunwoo, the two of them getting absorbed in the game with Hyunjae’s loud laugh echoing through the dorm when they’re close to winning. Haknyeon has no idea where he is, but he figures he’s in the living room. He doesn’t know where Sunwoo is. They’d usually play in the same room to avoid the hassle of using mics, but this time it sounds like Hyunjae and Sunwoo are apart, too, which means all three of them are on mic. And as with most matches where they’re not completely obliterated, once they get really into it they’re laughing and screaming with excitement. Hyunjae plays surprisingly well for someone who plays as a sporadic hobby, and he almost carries them this time, losing at the last second. It’s still fun, and Haknyeon has forgotten all about Sunwoo unfriending him until Sunwoo says, “ _All right, I’m gonna go now. Have fun, hyung._ ”

Hyung. Singular. He’s talking to Hyunjae, like Haknyeon isn’t even there. Hyunjae wishes him good night, but Haknyeon is quiet until he sees tjsdnㅋㅋ has left the lobby. 

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he says. 

“ _Done what?_ ” 

“Added me to the party. Next time just don’t, please.”

Hyunjae sighs, “ _What’s up with you two, anyway?”_

“Fuck if I know,” Haknyeon says, then rubs at his eyes, tiredly. “You should ask him.”

There’s a moment of silence, and Haknyeon is about to ask if Hyunjae is ok—because it’s very unlike him to hold back on an opportunity to offer unsolicited opinions—when Hyunjae walks into the room. He’s still wearing the clothes he wore to their Japanese lesson, hours before, socks and all. Haknyeon takes note of that as Hyunjae leans against the bedframe and looks up at him. 

“I did ask him. He told me to piss off.”

“He didn’t.”

“No, he didn’t,” Hyunjae admits with a smirk. “But he wouldn’t tell me, either. He just said it’s fine, not to worry. I figured you’d have worked it out by now.”

“We didn’t. He’s an idiot,” Haknyeon says, for no other reason other than he is bitter, and tired, and Sunwoo can fuck off for all he cares. “Can you believe he unfriended me in the game? Like, isn’t that ridiculous? What is he, 9?”

“Is that why you’re mad at him?”

“No! I mean, yes! But no,” Haknyeon closes the game and turns his laptop off. “I’m just tired of his bullshit. I don’t even know what I did to deserve this.”

He throws his laptop aside on the mattress and climbs down the ladder of his bunk bed. He’s gonna take a shower, wash the day off his skin and hopefully the anger, too. They have a packed schedule tomorrow, and Haknyeon needs sleep, not to be thinking about Sunwoo acting like a goddamn child because he’s regressing to a 13 year-old, or whatever the fuck is wrong with him. He’s so pissed he misses Hyunjae frowning.

“You don’t know what happened?”

Haknyeon pulls a drawer open. “No?”

“But did you figure out when it started?”

“When what started? Sunwoo acting like a jerk? Not really.”

Hyunjae doesn’t say anything for a moment. Haknyeon looks over his shoulder, because a thinking Hyunjae is a plotting Hyunjae, and he’s suspicious.

“What?” 

“Didn’t you guys fight in the New Years?”

“We weren’t together for the New Years. He went out with his friends, I went out with mine.”

“Not _the_ New Years,” Hyunjae clarifies. “ _Our_ New Years, here, when everyone came back. That night when we mixed whiskey and soju and Jacob threw up in the kitchen.”

It’s the most absurd way to remember that night, because it was a lovely, cozy get-together where all eleven members gathered to eat and drink, welcoming the new year and promising all mushy things close friends who also happen to be coworkers promise each other when the year turns. But of course Hyunjae would choose to remember the night by associating it with Jacob, and Jacob’s little accident in the kitchen, because he’s Hyunjae. Haknyeon doesn’t bother pointing that out, though. He thinks about Hyunjae’s question, and finds he can’t really remember much from that night after the second bottle of soju was brought to the table.

He remembers Kevin and Eric drunk crying, because he laughed really hard at that; he remembers Jacob throwing up, because the smell was awful and no one let Jacob forget that the next day; he remembers arguing in favor of a karaoke game with a couple of other members, but he doesn’t remember the karaoke in question happening, so he imagines he lost that argument in the end. He remembers some flashes, too, including one of Sunwoo looking at him, eyes big and beautiful, but nothing about a fight.

“I don’t think we did?” He says, but he lacks conviction. “I’m not sure, we drank a lot. Why? Did he say something?” 

“No, but…” Hyunjae pauses, shakes his head. “I don’t know... You two were hanging out by the balcony in Juyeon’s room with Chanhee, I think, and Juyeonie? Not sure, I just know there were more people there, but I remember him coming out upset and locking himself in his room. I think he was the first one to turn in for the night. Well, if we don’t count Eric falling asleep on the couch. I didn’t think much of it, we know he gets all emotional when he drinks, but he was weird the entire week after that. I didn’t add two and two together until I noticed the weird energy between you two these past few weeks.”

“Weird energy,” Haknyeon snorts. “That’s a way to put it.”

He tries to think back to what Hyunjae is talking about. He has some vague memory of the balcony, which is less a balcony and more of a window, since Juyeon and Youghoon’s room is organized in a way that the furniture blocks the way to the balcony. But he does remember being _on_ that balcony that night, and he thinks that flash of Sunwoo looking at him is from that particular moment; Sunwoo’s eyes were reflecting the lights from the street below, and the night air was chilly enough that Haknyeon remembers pulling his jacket closer to this body.

But he doesn’t remember anything else; he tries to jog his memory, but nothing is coming back to him. If he and Sunwoo fought, he was too drunk to remember. He doesn’t even know how long they were out on the balcony.

“But does it fit? In the timeline, I mean?” Hyunjae asks.

Haknyeon thinks for a moment. “It kinda does… I think? I was so hungover the next day I don’t remember if he was being weird, and then I didn’t see him much after…”

Oh. In hindsight, it’s obvious; that was when Sunwoo started to pull away. Haknyeon literally can’t remember talking to Sunwoo in any way for about two weeks after that party, but at the time he had so many things going through his head, he didn’t pay it any mind. If anything, he remembers thinking Sunwoo must’ve been busy, too; he was never around to order food together during dinnertime anymore, and he walked in and out of practice quiet enough that Haknyeon thought it was his way to get in the right mindset for their comeback. Now, with the advantage of perspective, Haknyeon sees it: Sunwoo was avoiding him.

His stomach sinks with the realization that it took him so long to figure it out. Would it have made any difference if he had noticed it sooner? Did Sunwoo feel wronged by the fact that Haknyeon didn’t try to fix whatever went wrong at the party?

“Well, _shit_ ,” Haknyeon mutters, mostly to himself. 

Hyunjae chuckles, patting him on the shoulder on his way out of the room. “Try talking to him, buddy. That usually helps.”

Talking doesn’t always help, of course. Haknyeon knows that well enough now, because it’s been over a month and he still feels like utter shit whenever he remembers what he did the last time they tried to talk. It’s been hard dealing with Sunwoo and this distance between them, but work gives him a semblance of normalcy whenever they have to work together for choreography purposes. What he can’t quiet down, no matter how hard he tries, is the voice inside his head that keeps replaying Sunwoo’s words that night. 

_I can’t be as fake as you are, hyung. You’re empty._

He should’ve forgotten about it by now. He should’ve moved on, because Sunwoo was lashing out, and Haknyeon shouldn’t take those words seriously when they were so obviously meant to hurt him. But realizing Sunwoo has been pulling away from him since _January_ and he didn’t notice it takes a toll on him; surely a good friend wouldn’t take so long to realize something was wrong. _Surely_ , the voice in his head (that sounds a lot like the voice he hears whenever he reads or overhears hurtful shit) says, a good friend wouldn’t just ignore when someone close to him was hurting. 

Maybe Sunwoo is right. Maybe he _is_ empty.

Haknyeon is starting to spiral down and he knows it. He’s familiar enough with the signs, so he reaches out to his friends, tries his best to surround himself with positive things, starts bingewatching some stuff, gives some extra gas to his Chinese studies. It works, to an extent. They’re also busy enough with work that most of his dark thoughts come at night, when his defenses are weaker, body and mind tired from the day. 

He needs to ask him about it. He needs to talk to Sunwoo, but something—shame, regret, anger, even—makes him hesitate, always waiting for a better moment that never comes. Especially since Sunwoo does his absolute best to never be too close to him, much less alone with him in a room. It’s absurd enough that Sangyeon asks him about it, too, much like Hyunjae did but a lot more concerned—they can’t afford to be fighting right now, Sangyeon says. 

“And we’re about to soar really high, Hak,” Sangyeon explains one Sunday morning, helping Haknyeon dry the dishes even though he’s not on dishwashing duties. “This isn’t just about the group. I’m not here just as the team leader. I’m here for you, too.”

He stops when someone walks into the kitchen. Changmin goes straight for the fridge, grabs a yogurt and walks away, completely ignoring them. Sangyeon lowers his voice and continues when he’s not within earshot:

“I need to know you’re gonna be there for it, heart and soul. You deserve to enjoy this.” 

Haknyeon glances at him, but he doesn’t have the strength to hold his gaze. Not when Sangyeon sounds so worried. He keeps his eyes trained on the frying pan he’s rinsing as he says, “I’m here. I promise. But I don’t know how to fix things with him. I tried, and I think I only made it worse. I’m sorry.”

Sangyeon shifts from foot to foot. He sounds exasperated when he says, “You shouldn’t be apologizing.”

“You sure? Because you were just saying I’m a liability.”

Sangyeon puts down the dish towel and the mug he had in his hands, stepping closer still, trying to meet Haknyeon’s eyes. “You’re _not_ a liability. Don’t put words in my mouth, I never said that.”

Haknyeon hates that he can hear the worry in his voice, because in the years they have known each other, he has seen Sangyeon worry far too much for someone his age. He has been shouldering so much for so long, Haknyeon really doesn’t want to pile up on that. He really, really doesn’t.

And yet, “But I’m worried about you, Hak. And I gotta think about everyone else, too. I’m worried about all of us. You and Sunwoo included. Whatever happened between you two, there’s gotta be a way to fix it. Not just for the sake of the group, but for the two of you. Jesus, he looks _broken_. And you don’t look much better. This, this fight, this thing, whatever it is, it’s not healthy. For either of you.”

“It’s not,” Haknyeon agrees. “But it’s not up to me. He’s the one who hates me, not the other way around.”

“He doesn’t hate you.”

“You sure?”

Sangyeon shakes his head, “He could never hate you. Anyone else I’d take your word for it, but not Sunwoo.” 

Even though it’s the second person saying that, Haknyeon still can’t see it. Maybe because he’s the one on the receiving end of Sunwoo’s indifference; maybe because he still remembers Sunwoo’s face after he punched him; either way, Haknyeon can’t quite believe that narrative, that Sunwoo could never hate him. It’s not even a self-esteem thing, it’s not that Haknyeon thinks he’s particularly hateable—it’s just that Sunwoo has made it very clear that he does.

When Haknyeon still doesn’t answer, Sangyeon sighs. “Can you at least promise me you’ll talk to him? I don’t want to do a whole intervention.”

“Please don’t,” Haknyeon says right away. “I’ll do it. I’ll talk to him again. But I’m telling you right now, I don’t think it’s gonna help.”

“It can’t hurt, either,” Sangyeon says, turning his back to put away the mug. He couldn’t have seen it, but Haknyeon still schools his expression into one of neutral nonchalance when his heart skips a beat. 

It _can_ hurt. But Haknyeon hopes it doesn’t. Not this time. 

It takes him another few days to find an opportunity. Busy schedules and Sunwoo’s olympic efforts to stay out of his way mean that Haknyeon can’t find him alone. By Thursday he decides to approach him after practice. It’s late, but it’s the best he can do, considering the circumstances. He sees Sunwoo leave the practice room and jogs after him, catching up to him in the hallway just as he’s heading for the elevators.

“Sunwoo,” he calls. Sunwoo turns around, doing what he always does when Haknyeon addresses him now: meeting his gaze and averting his eyes immediately. Haknyeon doesn’t let it discourage him. “Can I talk to you?”

Sunwoo nods. “Here?”

“Jacob’s studio,” Haknyeon suggests, knowing it’s right there, a couple doors away, and empty right now. “If that’s ok?”

“Yeah, sure.”

They walk over to the room, Haknyeon taking the lead and holding the door open for Sunwoo, who walks in with his hands on his pockets, backpack hanging from a shoulder. The bright lights make him look tired, eyes sunken and sweat matting his hair to his temples, but he looks receptive enough that Haknyeon is hopeful. 

“Should we sit?” Haknyeon asks, a little bit nervous. 

“I’m good.”

As much as Haknyeon wants to blame Sunwoo for not making it any easier, he can’t help but remember how last time went. He doesn’t regret being here, but he does worry and wonder if he should’ve waited until they were at the dorm—at least last time someone was there to break them apart, to keep them away from each other before things escalated any further. Here, it’s just the two of them. And Haknyeon doesn’t want it to escalate in any way, shape or form. He hugs himself, keeping his arms to himself, in an attempt to make himself look less threatening. He stays by the door, and Sunwoo just stands there, by the desk, waiting. He’s still not looking Haknyeon in the eye, choosing instead to stare at the floor between them. 

Haknyeon takes a deep breath.

“I was talking to Hyunjae hyung the other day…” He starts, then pauses to lick his lips. He can do this. “He made me realize I might’ve missed something. What may have happened.”

Sunwoo doesn’t say anything. He nods, minutely, an indication that he’s listening.

“The thing is, I don’t remember. I don’t know what I did for you to be treating me like garbage—“ Here Sunwoo glances at him, and Haknyeon thinks he’s gonna say something, but he doesn’t, so he continues. “And that might not be it, maybe he got it all wrong, but he said—He suggested it might’ve been something I did at that New Years party at the dorm. And it makes sense, because that’s when you started avoiding me. Right?” 

He waits. Finally, Sunwoo says, “You don’t remember?”

The anxiety that’s been simmering just under Haknyeon’s skin gathers into a ball in his stomach at those words. “I really don’t. I was drunk, my memory is foggy. What happened, Sunwoo? Please. Just tell me.”

“We played a game,” Sunwoo begins, still staring at the floor, still droning in a monotone, like he doesn’t want to betray any emotion whatsoever with his face or with his voice. It hurts to be treated like he’s not worth even the slightest bit of emotion, but Haknyeon can take it. He has been taking it for months now. “Well, not really a game. We were drunk and we thought it’d be really funny to climb over Younghoon hyung’s bed to reach the balcony in their room, and then we thought it would be funnier to stay outside for a minute or two, despite the fact that it was freezing. Chanhee compared it to Seven Minutes in Heaven, just staying there for a while and bracing the cold because, again, we were drunk and happy and dumb, I guess.”

Sunwoo’s words are like paint in water, slowly spreading through Haknyeon’s memory until he thinks he can remember it; Juyeon’s stupid idea, Chanhee’s laugh as he said this would be just like Seven Minutes in Heaven. He remembers laughing so hard when he stumbled on Younghoon’s bed, almost faceplanting on the mattress if it wasn’t for Sunwoo’s hand on his wrist—

“You don’t remember?”

“I’m starting to,” Haknyeon says. He forces himself to think back to that night, tries to make sense of the flashes in his head. “We sat on the aircon unit outside. Right?”

Sunwoo nods.

“I remember that. I remember you asking me what time it was, then something about stars?”

“Shooting stars. I said we should make a wish for this year if we saw any.”

“Then I laughed,” Haknyeon is surprised with himself for remembering. It’s a slow process, but it’s coming back to him. “Because—“

“‘There are no stars here, city boy,’” Sunwoo cites. Before Haknyeon can ask what happened next, excited that it’s working, that Sunwoo’s words are jogging his memory, Sunwoo looks up and meets his eyes. His jaw is set in a hard, tense line before he says, “Then you asked if you should kiss me, as a New Years gift. It was only fair, you said, since I’d been pining after you for so long.”

Haknyeon opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. He remembers that now. He remembers Sunwoo’s eyes on him, big and beautiful, an easy smile playing on his lips after Haknyeon called him a city boy. He remembers thinking he looked pretty under the night sky, the lights of the street below reflecting on his irises.

“Then you laughed at my face,” Sunwoo continues. His voice is a lot less gentle, a lot more hurt. He clears his throat. “And that was it. Hope that helps.”

Haknyeon ignores the last remark. It’s bait, it’s Sunwoo lashing out again, but Haknyeon isn’t biting it this time. He’s mortified. He doesn’t know how he forgot that, and he doesn’t know why his inebriated brain thought that was something ok to say, back then. 

“I am… so sorry,” he says. 

Sunwoo reacts by closing his eyes and scratching at his eyebrow, an angry smile on his lips, like he’s trying really hard to control himself. He shakes his head, “Whatever, man. It was a good thing, you know. It was cruel, and uncalled for, but at least you were honest. That’s good. It was a good reminder for me to back off, to leave you alone. To not make things weirder than they already were.”

“Sunwoo, no, I—That’s not—“ Haknyeon stammers. “It was a joke.”

“You have a funny sense of humor.”

“I know, it was a terrible joke! I don’t know why I said that. But I didn’t mean—I wasn’t making fun of you. Not like that.”

There’s so much hurt in Sunwoo’s eyes, Haknyeon almost wishes he’d look away again, like he has been doing all this time. But he doesn’t. He holds Haknyeon’s gaze this time.

“I think you knew exactly what you were doing, hyung.”

“I’m—“ Haknyeon is so ready to argue, the words to irrationally defend himself just there, on the tip of his tongue, but he can’t. He can’t do this, not again. Not to Sunwoo, knowing what brought all of this on in the first place. “I’m really sorry. Really.” 

Sunwoo shifts in place, pulls on the strap of his backpack. He looks down again, at the floor, and Haknyeon feels like they just narrowly avoided another fight. “If that was all, I think I’m gonna go.”

Haknyeon nods. He doesn’t know if Sunwoo sees it, but Sunwoo heads for the door, and Haknyeon steps aside to let him go, hugging himself before he does something stupid like reach for Sunwoo. The door closes softly behind him, and Haknyeon stays there, glued to the floor, trying to organize his scattered thoughts.

It was his fault. It had always been his fault. He was the one who hurt Sunwoo first, and _he didn’t even remember it_. No wonder he pulled away. Haknyeon can’t really remember what pushed him to make that joke, what made him think it was ok to say that. He just remembers feeling giddy, cold, Sunwoo’s eyes on him making him feel like the world was theirs. He was _happy_ , for Christ’s sake. He wasn’t trying to be mean. 

Haknyeon pulls a chair and sits down, giving Sunwoo enough time to reach the dorm before he follows him. He doesn’t want to see him now, feeling too embarrassed, and he also doesn’t want to impose his presence. Which is funny, considering he has been imposing himself just fine all this time, thinking Sunwoo was being unfair by avoiding him. But right now, he thinks it’s understandable if Sunwoo wants some distance between them. Haknyeon had been a jerk. He didn’t mean to, but he had been one.

And the worst thing? Haknyeon is just now realizing why the joke hurt Sunwoo so much.

He _had_ been pining for him.

Hadn’t he? Haknyeon thinks of the teasing from the other members, from their friends, about Sunwoo being a little too fond of Haknyeon. Haknyeon never took them seriously, thinking it was all in good fun. Sunwoo didn’t seem too bothered by them either. It was just how things were; Sunwoo was a nice guy and a great friend, and he didn’t hide the fact that he had a soft spot for Haknyeon, which made him an easy target for teasing. He wasn’t the only one; Eric got teased constantly for the same thing, and so did Younghoon. It was a joke, a harmless one that every target took in stride, because that’s all it ever was: a joke.

But was it? Haknyeon isn’t so sure anymore.

He’s staring at the computer in front of him when he remembers something from months ago.

He was sitting down next to one of their in-house producers, him and Eric staying behind after doing some additional recordings for a track. Eric was playing around, amusing the other guy by asking him to add weird effects to the voice files he just recorded and trying to mimic them. They were happy, they had some time to spare before they had to leave, and Haknyeon felt comfortable around them, in one of the studios they have been using for years now to record their tracks.

That was when Eric gasped.

“Is that Sunwoo’s song? He _recorded_ it?” 

He pointed to one of the screens, and Haknyeon saw it too; a minimized window titled _SUNWOO_BERRY.m4a_. The producer tried to close it, but Eric put his hand on top of his and dragged the mouse away.

“No, seriously, let us hear it, please?” Eric asked, making the producer—who they affectionately call Jo hyung—laugh.

“Ask him yourself,” Jo said. 

“He sang it on VLIVE the other day,” Eric argued. He opened the window like that, holding the mouse with Jo’s hand still on top of it, completely unashamed. “He won’t mind.”

“He might. And I could get in trouble for this,” Jo said, but he didn't sound too worried.

Haknyeon, going off Eric’s chaotic energy, said, “It’s fine, we won’t tell him. Your secret is safe with us.”

Eric hit play. It was a crude recording, not a professional file by any means; it sounded more like Sunwoo had recorded it on his phone, his breathing too noticeable, the volume not high enough despite Eric cranking up the lever. There was no beat yet, it was just Sunwoo singing, and his voice sounded sweet and perfect, despite the fact that there were no effects or polishing of any kind. Eric was grinning, and Jo was tapping his foot to the rhythm, but Haknyeon got lost in the lyrics.

It was a love song.

And if that was all it was, Haknyeon wouldn’t have been caught so off guard. But at the first mention of _cherry_ , he hesitated. He hadn’t seen the VLIVE Eric mentioned, he had no idea Sunwoo had a new song, much less one he was comfortable enough sharing with the world. He wondered if there was a reason why Sunwoo hadn’t shown him that particular song, but brushed the thought aside as quickly as it came, because that was just absurd. Even if the lyrics talked of _red hair that spells sunset_ , and _shared cakes_ , and of _company that is as sweet as it is citrus_ , Haknyeon felt like the most self-absorbed asshole in the world for thinking it was about him. It couldn't be. First, because it was a love song. Secondly, because… Because. 

It was a love song. It couldn't be about him. Period.

But the thought must’ve hidden itself in a corner of Haknyeon’s brain, because it came spilling out of his mouth as soon as he was drunk enough to lose all his filters. He must’ve been wondering, deep down, if there was more to Sunwoo’s affections than he let on. It wasn’t a conscious effort—Haknyeon wasn’t aware he was questioning Sunwoo’s feelings for him. He would never have been made aware, probably, if it wasn’t for the fact that he couldn’t handle alcohol, much less the amount he drank that fateful night in January. 

Now, in the empty, quiet room, Haknyeon feels awful. Because it _was_ a love song, and it _was_ about him. And his alcohol-loose tongue mocked Sunwoo for it, even if that hadn’t been his intention at all. That had been a hurtful, awful joke, that probably made it seem like Haknyeon knew his feelings for a fact, like he was making fun of Sunwoo for it. When in reality, he would never. Not if he knew it to be true.

Haknyeon stays in that room for another hour. When he finally stands up to leave, he still has no idea where to begin fixing this.

The timing couldn’t be worse. They’re swamped, practicing three choreographies at once while still dealing with a packed schedule. Haknyeon feels close to exploding—usually, when they’re this busy, he can still recharge by meeting up with friends backstage, or at least letting all his stress go when he stands on stage and feels the feedback from the audience. But there’s no audience now, for _anything_ , and they’re being advised (read: strongly encouraged) to keep social visits backstage to a minimum. Which means Haknyeon is locked in the same rooms and the same cars every single day, with the same people, including the one person who makes it all ten times more uncomfortable for him.

It’s not that he blames Sunwoo now. As much as he’d like to still pin all of this on Sunwoo, and treat him with the same indifference Sunwoo has been treating him, he feels ashamed. Knowing that he did something to deserve the cold treatment doesn’t make it easier; if anything, it makes it harder to stomach, because every time Sunwoo goes out of his way to avoid Haknyeon, it’s a reminder that Haknyeon screwed up. As a friend, as a colleague, as a human being, even. It’s a hard pill to swallow, and he has no strength (and no free time, really) to confront that right now. 

It’s another couple of weeks before they need to interact again, for dance purposes. The choreographer explains and demonstrates the sequence, delegating who goes where. It’s a complicated sequence, and they will have to put in hours and hours of practice to perfect it, but they’re confident they can pull it off. Except for Sunwoo.

“I could hurt them,” he says. He’s looking at the choreographer. “If I fell, I would hurt them.”

“Then don’t fall,” the choreographer says, like it’s obvious.

“But if I do?”

“You won’t fall,” Jacob says. He sits up on his haunches. “And even if you do, it’s ok. We’ll be fine.”

“Maybe someone else should do this,” Sunwoo says. It’s probably the first time Haknyeon has seen him straight up reject an idea. Not only is he one to accept challenges head on as they come, he’s usually more subtle about suggesting changes to choreography. 

Not this time, apparently. The choreographer blinks in surprise. He hasn’t been working with them for long, so he doesn’t know this isn’t Sunwoo. “You won’t do it?”

It sounds a lot less friendly than before. It’s a tip of the scale that makes them antsy—they don’t want to antagonize the man who can help them win this, much less give him the idea that they’re hard to work with. The practice room mirrors have ears, and they know that all too well. It’s a thin line between respect and bootlicking, but they have been treading that line for a while now, so they know what’s at stake. 

“You can do it, Sunwoo. Come on,” Kevin says. 

Eric nods, “It’s gonna be fine, just trust us.”

“I trust you,” Sunwoo says, turning around to look at him. He glances at Haknyeon for half a second before he says, “I trust all of you. But I’m one of the heaviest members, and I could seriously hurt you if I got it wrong. You know that. Someone else should do it. That would be the smarter course of action.”

Haknyeon holds his breath for a second, eyes going back and forth between Sunwoo and the choreographer. They’re verging on an argument here, an ugly one that could be disastrous not only for this particular choreography but for their future collaborations. That’s when he stands up, taps Jacob on the shoulder, and says, “Switch with me.”

“What?” Jacob looks at him, confused.

“Switch places with me. I’ll be the last one, you be the second-to-last.”

“But…?“ Jacob starts arguing, but he stands up anyway, letting Haknyeon take his position at the end of the line. He kneels down again, this time where Haknyeon had been. 

Haknyeon looks at Sunwoo. He hopes he will understand why Haknyeon is doing this. He hopes he doesn’t have to spell it out. _I trust you,_ he tries to convey with his eyes. _But even if you mess it up, I’m willing to take the brunt of the pain. You can hurt me, and not Jacob._

“We can take it,” he says. _I can take it._ “Just do it.” _Don’t worry about me._

Sunwoo doesn’t look convinced, but he agrees to do the step anyway. They coax him with reassurances that they’ll be fine, he doesn’t have to worry, they trust him, and he should trust them, too. It’s hard work, and Sunwoo is clearly still nervous, but the first few times go as well as expected. It’s a good sign that helps lift their spirits. They’re confident they can make it work. 

When they’re done with practice, Haknyeon makes a beeline for the dorm, tired out of his mind. He’s the first one to get there, happy to claim the bathroom for himself and take a slow, relaxing shower for as long as he wants. Sunwoo got the step wrong only once tonight, missing the timing and hitting Haknyeon’s back with his knee instead, but it didn’t hurt as much as Haknyeon expected it to. All in all, he’s satisfied with the results, and glad they managed to avert a crisis, even if it meant a little bruising in the long run. 

It’s when he comes back to his room that he learns not everyone agrees with him.

Sunwoo is sitting on Hyunjae’s bed, but he stands up when Haknyeon walks into the room. He looks tired, and worst of all, upset.

“Why did you do that?”

Haknyeon walks over to plug his phone to the charger next to his bed, bracing himself for what is probably gonna be another fight. “Do what?”

“Offer to change places with Jacob hyung.”

Haknyeon turns to look at him. “Because you were worried. I just wanted to help.”

“And why did you think that would help?”

“Because—“ Haknyeon stops. His rationale sounds overly dramatic now that he’s being asked to put it into words. “I mean, I figured you’d be less worried about hurting me than Jacob. For obvious reasons.”

Sunwoo smiles, but there’s no mirth. “That makes no fucking sense.”

“Of course it does. At least you’d be hurting someone you hate, right?” 

He means it in a cutting, spiteful way, because he’s tired and Sunwoo is making a fuss over what he thought was a favor. He just wants to shut Sunwoo up, just that. But it probably comes out the wrong way, because Sunwoo’s voice comes lower, with no bite, when he says, “You know I don’t hate you. You know that.” 

That’s when Haknyeon explodes.

“I don’t know anything, Sunwoo,” Haknyeon says, the words coming up his throat before he can help it. “That’s the thing. I’ve been running in the dark for months now, thinking you were being a jerk to me because I was a bad friend, then thinking it was _you_ who was a bad friend, only to realize my first guess was right. I was and still am a shitty friend to you, and if you hate me for that I gotta suck it up and live with it, so that’s what I’m doing. Because it doesn’t matter if you say you don’t hate me, your actions say otherwise. So now you have the perfect opportunity to pay back all the pain I inflicted upon you all this time, and I’m willing to take it, because you know what? It fucking hurts already, anyway. I’m already hurting, so if I can make the goddamn step easier for you, or for Jacob, or for whoever the fuck else needs it, then so be it! Let me fucking take it! Hurt me as much as you can, since you never had the chance to punch me back that one time, as you should have done.” 

His words come out in a jumbled mess, and when he’s done, he’s breathing heavily. He was expecting to blow over at some point, knowing his stress level was dangerously high, but not like this. He freezes, trying to collect his thoughts. All he can do is watch Sunwoo’s face, the way he clenches his jaw and holds Haknyeon’s gaze.

“I could never hit you,” Sunwoo says. He doesn’t sound angry, not like Haknyeon. His voice is still low, his words pronounced calmly, clearly, like he’s choosing them with care. “Even if I wanted to. If you were paying attention you’d know that.” 

Haknyeon doesn’t know what to say. He feels a bit embarrassed about his outburst, but he knows it wasn’t his fault. Sunwoo had come in ready for a fight and, for some reason, changed gears at the last second. Haknyeon is still angry, but not enough to go off again. He’s more confused than anything now.

“That’s why it made me so anxious that you’d volunteer to be the last one in line,” Sunwoo continues. It’s like all the fight has left him. Haknyeon can’t gauge exactly what he’s feeling, but it’s not anger. “Because I don’t want to hurt you. Not any more than I already did. And if you think I’d be happy to hurt you, you don’t know me at all.”

Haknyeon stares at him, at a loss for words. His resolve to fight dies down, bit by bit, as he slowly realizes the emotion in Sunwoo’s voice is sadness, pure and simple. He isn’t angry, he isn’t looking for a fight anymore—he sounds heartbroken.

“I’m sorry if my actions make it seem like I hate you,” Sunwoo keeps going. He looks down briefly, uses the back of his hand to wipe at his nose, then looks back up again. “Because I don’t, hyung. I could never hate you. Not with the way I love you. And I’m sorry I keep causing you pain.”

“Sunwoo...“

Sunwoo’s face crumbles. He frowns, bottom lip wobbling as he looks down, one hand coming up to hide his eyes, then both. Haknyeon doesn’t see it coming, he’s too confused, too caught up in Sunwoo’s words to realize he’s this close to crying. He doesn’t know what to do. 

“I’m just really fucking sorry,” Sunwoo says, and Haknyeon’s heart breaks at how shaky his voice is. “I keep fucking up and I don’t know how to make things right because every time I only make it worse—“

He doesn’t get a chance to finish his thoughts before Haknyeon steps closer and hugs him. Haknyeon doesn’t know what to say, much less what to do, but it’s painful to watch Sunwoo break down like this, and he can’t just stand and watch. He feels Sunwoo’s body shake with a sob when his arms are around him, bringing him closer. 

“You don’t fuck up that often,” Haknyeon says against his hair, placing a kiss there. He hopes his tone is light enough for Sunwoo to understand it’s a lighthearted joke. 

Sunwoo laughs, a choked up laugh followed by a shake of his head. He’s letting Haknyeon embrace him, hiding his face on his chest, almost unmoving if not for the way his body shakes with the occasional sob. Haknyeon can’t remember the last time they hugged, _really_ hugged; not just a friendly arm over the shoulder, but a comforting embrace like this. It’s not that alarming—Haknyeon doesn’t go out of his way to hug people—but it’s still surprising considering how much he likes having Sunwoo this close to him.

It would probably feel even better if his heart wasn’t breaking the way it is now, knowing Sunwoo must’ve been at his wits’ end to break down like this.

“You know,” Haknyeon says, voice lower, barely above a whisper, afraid he’s gonna spook Sunwoo if he speaks any louder. “That’s a lot to ask of someone. That step, I mean. It takes balls. And it’s something only an amazing performer could pull off. That’s why we trust you to do this. We trust you. _I_ trust you.”

He’s just talking, letting the words come, in hopes that it will help Sunwoo feel even a little bit better. He doesn’t stop to think how quickly he went from anger to this, how easily he let go of his frustration the moment he realized Sunwoo wasn’t ok. This isn’t just about their fight anymore; like most things in life, this is a combination of several factors.

Haknyeon understands that. He understands how their rift is making things worse at the worst possible time. He feels guilty, but he doesn’t think there’s anything he could do now to make it better.

“And I know you trust us,” he continues, carding his fingers through the hair on the back of Sunwoo’s neck. It reminds him of not easier, but less rocky days for them, of comforting touches that spelt safety back then. “I knew that already, but seeing you drop from that table onto Kevin and Eric’s arms? Dude. That was insane. You trust us with your life, why wouldn’t we trust you with ours? I know I do. And I trust you won’t fall doing the staircase, no matter how much you doubt yourself, no matter how scared you are, you won’t fall, Sunwoo. You can do this.”

“I can do it,” Sunwoo says against his shirt, and at first Haknyeon thinks he’s just repeating his words, but then he pulls back, wiping the tears from his cheeks, and says, “You can do it.”

He looks up, meets Haknyeon’s eyes. Haknyeon is smiling when he finishes it:

“We can do it.”

Sunwoo gives him a smile in return. It’s still not a happy smile, it’s too tight, too small for that, but it’s something. Haknyeon steps back before it gets awkward, giving Sunwoo some space.

“Sorry about this,” Sunwoo says, finally, clearing his throat. He’s looking down, at his fingers. He looks even more tired than he did before. “All of this. I got carried away. It was a lot. It _is_ a lot.”

“It is. But it’ll be fine.”

“Will it, though?” Sunwoo gives him another sad smile. He shakes his head. “Whatever. I’m gonna go… Take a shower, I think.”

Haknyeon doesn’t know if they should be leaving things this way, but he doesn’t know what to say, either. He feels bad for Sunwoo, the pressure he’s feeling, but he feels cornered, too, in a way. While he feels guilty, he feels wronged, too. It’s a hard combo to deal with, and he feels like he isn’t equipped to deal with this. Maybe he’s just tired. Maybe he just wants things to work out by themselves. He doesn’t know. 

When Sunwoo leaves his room, Haknyeon wishes him good night but doesn’t move to get on his bed. He’s tired, yes, but he can’t sleep like this. He doesn’t think he can bear to be alone right now, or for the night. So he takes his phone, his charger and his pillow, and stalks out of the room. Sunwoo is in the bathroom, and he can hear movement in the kitchen, so they’re not alone anymore.

Haknyeon doesn’t even have the energy to worry about the off chance that someone heard them. He just walks into another room and makes himself comfortable on the bed, scrolling on his phone. Younghoon comes into the room a while later, doesn’t bat an eyelash at Haknyeon there, and just gets ready for bed. It’s a while after Younghoon has wished him good night and drifted off to sleep (with the lights still inexplicably on) that Juyeon comes into the room and spots Haknyeon in his bed.

“Everything ok?” He asks right away, softly so as not to wake up Younghoon. He knows Haknyeon wouldn’t be in his bed otherwise. 

Haknyeon shakes his head, but doesn’t explain. He feels so exhausted, he pictures himself as a toy with dying batteries, no energy left in him to use his voice. 

Juyeon nods, picking up his towel and whispering, “I’ll just take a quick shower, I’ll be right back.” 

As promised, he’s there within minutes. He turns off the lights and climbs into bed. Haknyeon sets his phone aside and lets Juyeon throw his covers over both of them. He’s curled on his side, facing Juyeon, and Juyeon passes an arm around him to keep them close as he kisses Haknyeon in the forehead and wishes him good night. It takes a while for Haknyeon to fall asleep, but at least he doesn’t feel as lost as he would have in his own bed, with only his thoughts as company.

It’s been a while since he’s climbed into Juyeon’s bed like this, and he doesn’t want to think about what it means that he’s so frazzled he needs to bring back old habits like this one. His last thought before finally drifting to sleep is that he needs to remember to thank Juyeon in the morning. Haknyeon knows that even if he’s not a great friend (hell, he might not even be a _good_ friend), he can and will keep working on that. On showing appreciation. On being thankful and letting that show.

He doesn’t want to make anyone feel like he made Sunwoo feel, ever again. 

In the end, they make the choreography work. It’s as complex as they imagined it would be, and Sunwoo gets it wrong enough times that both Haknyeon and Jacob are sporting a collection of bruises on their backs by the time the performance happens, but it still works, and no one gets badly hurt. 

Time is weird these days. It moves both too fast and too slow—they barely see April happen, and May feels like it’s gone in the blink of an eye. But it still feels like things are frozen in place, like time has stopped; there are no major schedules, no festivals to perform at, no freedom to go anywhere while everyone watches life pass them by from their phone screens. Haknyeon feels tired both physically, from the absurd exertion these schedules have been putting them through, and mentally, from this constant in between, where they’re both really busy and weirdly disconnected from the world. He knew he enjoyed his freedom already, but he didn’t know how much until now.

And despite what Haknyeon originally thought, after that talk he had with Sunwoo, things don’t really change. They’re able to cooperate during practice, to the point where the choreographer seems to think they work well together, giving them more and more similar parts, but that’s the extent of it. Sunwoo is still distant, doing everything in his power to stay away from Haknyeon, and Haknyeon has no clue where they stand. He imagines they’re not about to fight again—he has said his mind, and Sunwoo has said his, but where do they go from here?

“ _Of course things are still weird._ ” Hyunjoon’s voice comes clear through the single earphone Haknyeon is wearing, but he can hear clatter in the background, too. 

“What are you doing?” Haknyeon asks, because he’s curious. 

“ _Making dinner. Well, I will as soon as I find the goddamn—Found it! How did you get here? Ok, as I was saying, of course things are still weird. Have you talked about his confession at all?_ ”

Haknyeon freezes. He has been lying on his back in an empty practice room, feet up against the mirror, throwing the tennis ball he found between the exercise mats up in the air. He has no idea why there’s a tennis ball in the practice room, but he doesn’t question it; it’s something to keep his hands busy while he talks to Hyunjoon on the phone. 

“He didn’t exactly confess.”

“ _Didn’t he?_ ”

“Well, no,“ Haknyeon throws the ball up, catches it, and stops again. “I mean, not really. We were too busy clawing at each other’s throats these past few months.”

“ _That’s hot._ ”

Haknyeon laughs. “Shut up.”

“ _He did confess, though. Like, his whole hissy fit was a confession of sorts. He just didn’t use the L word, but…”_

“He used it,” Haknyeon recalls immediately. “Last time we argued. He said he couldn’t hate me because he loves me.” 

“ _Are you serious right now? HYUNG!”_ He yells loud enough that Haknyeon winces. “ _You’re not that dense, come on._ ”

“I’m not being dense! I know what that means.”

“ _Do you? Have you tried to put yourself in his shoes?_ ”

“How so?”

Hyunjoon sighs, dramatically enough that it’s like he’s right there, rolling his eyes at Haknyeon. He’s still moving around in the kitchen by the random sounds of drawers being opened and closed, but the clattering has reduced considerably. 

“ _Imagine you’re him. You like someone, a close friend, but you never really made a move because you’re a scaredy cat, or because you have this deep-seated fear of rejection, or both. Then one day this friend jokes about your feelings, like not only he knows about it but finds it hilarious—_ “

“That’s not—“

“ _Shut up, I’m painting a picture. You’re hurt, you’re upset, and you think that maybe you were right not to say anything, after all. Your friend never addresses the fact that you like him, he never addresses the elephant in the room, even though it’s out in the open now. How do you feel?_ ”

Haknyeon doesn’t have to think hard about that one. “Rejected.”

“ _See? You’re not that dense. Now imagine all of this, but you’re Sunwoo, which means your feelings are twice as intense as those of a normal human being. And the two of you never talked about it! Just threw punches at each other like two Neanderthals who never heard of the word ‘communication’.”_

Haknyeon groans, “Ok, first of all: ouch. That was a mistake and I regret it and apologized—“

“ _Sure._ ”

“What do you mean ‘sure’? Don’t ‘sure’ me. And second, what would we even say? I don’t know if I feel the same way about him, it’d be a rejection anyway but more painful because it’d be to his face. Do you think that’s kind?”

“ _Maybe, I don’t know. Maybe he needs closure._ ” Hyunjoon pauses, muttering under his breath: “ _Fuck._ ”

Haknyeon feels cold run down his spine. “What?” 

“ _I’m out of ramen,_ ” Hyunjoon says, and Haknyeon throws the tennis ball against the mirror in frustration. It bounces away from him.

“You scared me, asshole!” 

“ _I boiled water and for what?_ ” More drawers and cabinets opening and closing before he says, “ _Great. I didn’t even want to eat anyway._ ”

“You need to eat,” Haknyeon says, out of reflex, because old habits die hard.

“ _And you need to do some soul searching._ ”

“Like shit I do.”

“ _You know what? I was gonna let you put in the work yourself because I think this is a great opportunity for you to learn a bit more about yourself, but you’re my friend, and I feel bad for Sunwoo, for some reason: you need to think long and hard why this distance he put between the two of you is affecting you so much. And before you say it’s not,_ ” here Haknyeon closes his mouth, as he was about to argue, “ _you’ve been whining about it for months now. You’re literally depressed, hyung. I know there’s more stuff bringing you down right now, and I know the world is a pile of shit right now as well, but not having Sunwoo with you is hurting you far too much for someone who claims his feelings aren’t reciprocated._ ”

“Maybe I just miss my friend,” Haknyeon argues, even though it lacks conviction. It’s hard to argue with Hyunjoon as it is, but he’s making a lot of good points, which makes it even harder.

“ _Yeah, maybe. Hence the soul searching. But it wasn’t Sunwoo who got drunk and joked about kissing you. It was the other way around. Have you thought about that?_ ”

He hasn’t. He was so caught up in the fact that he had hurt Sunwoo with that awful joke that he hasn’t stopped to think about why he even thought of it in the first place. He takes too long to answer, so Hyunjoon adds:

“ _Just ask yourself some questions and see how you react to the answers,_ ” he says. “ _No one can bring you to that conclusion but yourself and God knows—_ “

Haknyeon doesn’t hear the rest of his sentence because someone knocks on the door and opens it almost immediately. He sits up and sees Eric in the mirror, disheveled hair and glasses on, as he says, “Sorry, am I interrupting? I wanted to see if you’d be up for a live.”

“I gotta go, Hyunjoon,” Haknyeon says, and Eric perks up, closing the door behind him and walking over. 

“It’s Hyunjoonie? Hi, Hyunjoon!” He says way too loud, his voice echoing in the empty studio. “Tell Haknyeon hyung to go live with me!”

“ _Put me on speaker,_ ” Hyunjoon asks, and when Haknyeon does, he simply says: “ _No._ ”

Haknyeon laughs. Eric grins, “Aw, I love you too, Hyunjoonie.”

They bicker for another minute (or rather, Hyunjoon pretends to be annoyed while Eric jokingly gushes over him, baby voice and all) before Hyunjoon says he needs to go order dinner if he wants to eat at all tonight. When they finish the call, Eric looks at Haknyeon expectantly. “So. Live?”

“Don’t really feel like it,” Haknyeon says, and Eric’s shoulders fall a little. “Sorry. I don’t think I’d be good company either.”

“You’re always good company,” Eric counters, which is absurd, because Haknyeon knows he can be testy. “But it’s ok. Do you wanna do something instead?”

“Like what?” 

“I dunno.” Eric thinks for a second. “Oh, we could watch that thing. You know the thing? With the swords. I’m so behind on the episodes.”

“I’m all caught up,” Haknyeon says, and he feels bad for just throwing out Eric’s ideas even though he’s not doing it on purpose. “I have an idea. How tired are you?”

“Not much. I mean, not more than usual. Why? What idea?”

Two hours later, they’re exhausted but happy, having created the perfect dance cover for GWSN’s “BAZOOKA!” that is never seeing the light of the day. It was supposed to be just them goofing around and having fun but they get so into it they end up dividing parts and making it seamless enough that it kind of works, despite the fact that they’re 2 people reworking a choreography for 6 by themselves. Haknyeon welcomes the distraction wholeheartedly.

He’s gonna have to think about what Hyunjoon said, but not now. For now, he’s happy to point at the screen of Eric’s phone where they’re monitoring the end result and laugh, accusing him of missing the beat during Anne’s rap.

It’s only when they’re getting home, toeing out of their shoes in the foyer, that Eric says, “Thanks for hanging out today, hyung.”

Haknyeon thinks he’s too tired to process words, because he doesn’t quite understand why he’s thanking him. “Ok? It’s not like we never hang out together.”

“Yeah, but it’s been a while,” Eric says, then quickly looks back at Haknyeon. “I mean, I’m not pointing fingers! I know you’re dealing with your own stuff. I’m just happy we had fun. We had fun, right? You had fun?”

“I did.”

“Good,” Eric beams at him, and it’s such a happy smile, he’s so happy with himself, that Haknyeon feels a burst of affection for him. He thinks he understands, now. Eric wasn’t just bored when he came looking for him. He was trying to cheer Haknyeon up, like he always is, but Haknyeon was so lost in his own head, like he _also_ always is, that he didn't realize it until now. 

“Thanks. For real,” Haknyeon says. “That was fun.”

Eric smiles at him, catching how heartfelt that was. He starts to walk backwards into the apartment, “It really was. And by the way?” he says, reverting to the joking mood from before. “I _destroyed_ you with Anne’s rap. Just saying!”

“You missed the beat, idiot!” Haknyeon argues, but he’s laughing, lighter than he has felt in a while.

June is bittersweet in many ways. Haknyeon is glad to see it gone, along with everything else that accompanied it, and he’s even more glad to see his family and friends once they’re given a short break by the end of the month. It’s truly the definition of _healing_ —he feels a little less like he’s ripping at the seams, a little more grounded. They still have plenty of schedules to keep them busy, and he’s aware this respite isn’t lasting long, but still. It’s good to feel a bit more like himself, at the end of the day.

Hyunjoon’s advice never leaves his mind, even during their most hectic days. Haknyeon knows they have bigger fish to fry right now, and that he should be channeling all of his energy into work, and he _is_ , but sometimes, during downtime, he’ll catch himself wondering. Be it in the car whenever he’s unable to catch a short nap, or be it when he finds himself watching Sunwoo play around with the members during practice, his mind will drift off to the land of _what ifs_ , and Haknyeon will start asking himself if there’s more to it. If there’s more to them.

Now, with June gone, less pressure and more time to breath, Haknyeon lets his mind roam free.

If he were to describe Sunwoo in one word, it would be _constant_. Sunwoo has always been a constant in his life, even before they were really that close. He used to be there for Haknyeon all the time, never making a big deal out of it, just being present. Calling him as soon as Haknyeon sent him a message that wasn’t as cheerful, listening quietly whenever Haknyeon’s thoughts were too loud to be kept inside his head. Their relationship had been built on trust, mutual trust, seeing a friend in each other, someone who would be there to the bitter end, no questions asked.

It was easy with him because Haknyeon didn’t feel insufficient; he never felt like he was failing as a friend (not until recently, anyway). Sunwoo understood his shortcomings, and he understood Sunwoo’s. They weren’t perfect, and they argued sometimes, but it was always resolved quickly, because they were both trying so hard to be better people. They were growing together, learning together, and it was so reassuring to have someone like that around.

Where Haknyeon was fickle and brash, Sunwoo was reserved and overly cautious. When their personalities clashed, it was never a big deal, but manageable instead. 

Maybe that’s why it feels so weird to see Sunwoo pulling away now. It’s the first time since they got close that they’re not in each other's lives, not just a little distant, but broken apart entirely. Haknyeon knows, is painfully aware of it, that he had grown used to Sunwoo by his side, so much so that not having him there now feels like a part of himself is missing. He never truly understood that reference in song lyrics until now. There’s something missing, something palpable, tangible, that has been cut off from him like a limb, and it hurts. That constant isn’t there anymore. 

Sunwoo is slipping through his fingers like sand, and Haknyeon can’t seem to find a way to stop that from happening.

When he tries to think of what else Sunwoo means to him, he gets scared. When he thinks of kissing him, his mind takes him back to that night on the balcony, sitting shoulder to shoulder, staring into each other’s eyes like two drunk idiots, and how much of an impression that image left on him. He didn’t remember much about that night at first, before Sunwoo helped him remember, but he _did_ remember Sunwoo’s eyes, and how gorgeous he looked staring back into Haknyeon’s own. Hyunjoon was right (of course he was): the joke didn’t come out of nowhere.

Haknyeon had been thinking about kissing him. That’s why he made that joke, that’s why he brought that up at all. He wanted to kiss Sunwoo.

That thought alone is terrifying, because it’s simultaneously a big revelation and not a surprise at all. If anything, the big revelation is that he’s not as surprised as he should be. Deep down, he must’ve known something was different. He has no idea if it was happening anyway, gradually, or if Sunwoo’s song, the one he never released and never showed to Haknyeon himself, made him think about their relationship differently.

It was probably a series of small realizations—realizing Sunwoo meant so much to him, realizing Sunwoo had feelings for him that went beyond those of friendship, realizing that losing Sunwoo’s friendship hurt way too much to be bearable. 

Realizing that when people talk about _falling in love_ , the choice of words isn’t a coincidence. It’s not about losing your footing, nor is about hitting the ground. It’s about _falling_ , slowly but surely, a continuous, sequential thing that happens overtime, unstoppable. It doesn’t happen overnight. At least it didn’t with Haknyeon, if it did happen.

It’s scary to think about that. He never fell for a friend, he didn’t have time to—by the time he outgrew silly school crushes, he was already preparing to be an idol. There’s no time to experience first love, of the kind that takes his breath away. He dates, of course, and he has a steady girlfriend for a short while in highschool that is kind and funny and everything nice, but they’re not in love, and they both know that, as inexperienced as they are. Haknyeon just didn’t have time to think of romance until now, nor was he really that focused on it to begin with.

But now, as he clicks on the VLIVE notification and Sunwoo’s face fills his screen, he wonders if that was a mistake. Would it have made a difference if he had been looking for love somewhere else? Would he know for a fact if what he feels is more than what a friend feels for another had he at least tried to find love before? 

Sunwoo is talking to the camera, reading comments, looking so comfortable that Haknyeon gets lost in the cadence of his voice. It’s fanservice-y in the way all VLIVES are, but it’s still Sunwoo, and Haknyeon finds himself laughing when he jokes about the filter, or when he teases Chanhee yet again knowing Chanhee will see the clips of it as soon as someone uploads them to Twitter. Before he sees it, one hour has passed by. Haknyeon never watches the members’ lives for that long, but he doesn’t mind it this time.

He misses Sunwoo so much. Talking to him, laughing with him.

He misses seeing light in his eyes.

He misses his big, honest smile directed towards Haknyeon, free of hurt or mistrust.

He misses Sunwoo in his life, to the point where his chest hurts.

When the broadcast ends another hour later, Haknyeon still doesn’t know what that means, but he’s afraid he’s getting close to an answer.

A few days later, they have another get-together. It’s less planned than the first one: Changmin gets his care package from one of his sisters, which means they have alcohol again, and there’s a lull in their group schedules on Wednesday, so Tuesday night quickly turns into a fun, cozy night in, with some beer and soju. Even the members who had plans, like Sangyeon and Hyunjae, choose to stay in. Juyeon and Younghoon aren’t drinking; one is too tired and doesn’t want to oversleep the next day, the other has drama shooting in the afternoon. All the others are happy to share the drinks and get as loose as they can, unwinding after what feels like forever, especially for those who aren’t in the habit of going out.

Haknyeon keeps his drinking to a minimum, too. He can have fun without alcohol, that’s no secret, but he’s also being extra cautious. After what happened in January, he’s afraid he’s gonna say shit again; especially now with how much he has in his mind. He’s hyper aware of Sunwoo, first when he’s playing the dumbest soccer game on Eric’s Xbox that Haknyeon has ever seen, then when he follows Kevin into the kitchen to help him whip up some snacks.

All in all, it’s a very relaxed atmosphere in general, even if Haknyeon doesn’t feel as relaxed. 

“You ok there?” Hyunjae asks, sitting down heavily next to Haknyeon on the couch. He plops a piece of chocolate into his mouth and offers some to Haknyeon, who shakes his head. “What’s gotten into you today?”

“Nothing,” Haknyeon says, alarmed. “I’m ok. Why? Do I look not ok?”

Hyunjae chuckles. “You look worried, that’s all. Sitting here by yourself frowning like an anime villain.”

“I’m not frowning,” Haknyeon says, relaxing his forehead and realizing he was, indeed, frowning. “I’m just tired.”

“Sure,” Hyunjae says, because he doesn’t believe him, but he’s not arguing either. That’s their go-to excuse whenever they don’t feel like talking, or can’t talk for one reason or another, and Hyunjae knows that all too well. Still, he doesn’t leave Haknyeon’s side, and Haknyeon is secretly grateful for that. 

They turn their attention back to the TV, where Jacob and Juyeon’s characters are in a stand-off with enemy players, and Jacob is surprisingly amped up about it, trying to get Juyeon to use his shield at the right time. Changmin, who has never played the game, is giving bad, nonsensical advice and laughing every time Jacob glares at him, while Eric is standing right behind them and jumping up and down like he’s actually _in_ the game and not just watching it. Sangyeon and Younghoon are talking quietly in a corner, ignoring the game in favor of whatever philosophical discussion they’re having, Sangyeon holding his beer and Younghoon holding his chocolate milk. Chanhee is the only one paying attention to the music coming out of the bluetooth speakers, swaying gently to the melody in a corner of the room, eyes closed, probably a glass or two past sobriety at this point.

Haknyeon takes note of all of them, quietly.

There’s a sense of security that comes from being with them in the same room that Haknyeon can’t quite explain. Things have been weird, of course they have, and Haknyeon has struggled to find the peace he used to feel before, but his sense of safety is still there, somewhere. At least right now it is, reminding him that as unwelcome as he has felt for a while, this is still his home. These people are his home, and if he’s questioning everything else about himself and about his life right now, he’s not questioning this.

He sighs; Hyunjae pats his knee, as if he can tell what Haknyeon is thinking.

When Kevin and Sunwoo walk out of the kitchen again, they’re carrying four plates of assorted snacks that they place around the room; one for the gamers, one for the fake deep duo, one for themselves and Chanhee, who has pulled a flustered Kevin in for a drunk slow dance, and one for Haknyeon and Hyunjae on the couch, which Sunwoo delivers to Hyunjae, making sure not to meet Haknyeon’s eyes. Haknyeon doesn’t know why that does it, or why now, even; he doesn’t know if he feels emboldened because Hyunjae is right there, or if it’s because everyone else is; but when Sunwoo walks back towards the kitchen, Haknyeon stands up and follows him.

Sunwoo went back for his drink, Haknyeon realizes once he gets there and sees Sunwoo already turning back around, beer in hand. Their eyes meet and Sunwoo looks away, but before he can leave Haknyeon says, “Can I talk to you for a second?”

Sunwoo nods, but doesn’t speak nor moves from where he’s standing by the sink. Haknyeon takes a step forward, then another, until he’s standing right in front of a rigid, unmoving Sunwoo. He’s clearly on edge, suspicion clear in his eyes as he scans Haknyeon’s face. It’s understandable, because there’s no mistaking this proximity. 

“I wanna try something,” Haknyeon says.

It’s probably not the best way to preamble it, but Haknyeon doesn’t really know how to explain it, either. He wants to act, he wants to do something; talking has only gotten them so far, and he’s tired of trying to run in quicksand, feeling his feet dig deeper and deeper every time he thinks they’re making progress. He’s also curious, has been for a while, imagining what it would be like to do it. So he does it.

He kisses Sunwoo.

His lips are as soft as they look. That’s the first thought that pops into his head, closely followed by sheer euphoria. His heartbeat quickens, excitedly drumming against his ribcage. It all happens in the span of maybe two seconds before Sunwoo turns his face away, looking to the side and whispering, “Don’t.”

It’s so small Haknyeon wouldn’t have heard it if he weren’t right there, so close to him. But he does hear it. Before he can say anything, Sunwoo adds, still looking away:

“Don’t do this. Please.”

“Why not?”

Sunwoo looks back at him. There’s fire in his eyes, but there’s pain, too. Haknyeon’s excited heart skips a beat. 

“Because it’s too cruel. Even for you.”

“But—“ Haknyeon doesn’t let the accusation hit home. He’s confused, still reeling from the kiss, brief as it was. “I thought you wanted this.”

Sunwoo stares at him for a second too long before he steps away, out of Haknyeon’s reach, “I don’t. Not like this.”

“Like how, Sunwoo?”

“Out of pity,” Sunwoo retorts. He’s not exactly angry, but he’s not happy, either. “Like this doesn’t hurt me.”

Haknyeon is dumbfounded. “Pity? This has nothing to do with pity.”

“Then what does it have to do with?”

“Curiosity,” Haknyeon says, too honestly.

Sunwoo nods. He bites his lip, gives a small, bitter laugh. “Curiosity. You didn’t—You never stopped to think how that would make me feel, did you?”

“I didn’t think you’d throw a fit over it,” Haknyeon shoots back, regretting it immediately. That was not the point of this, at all. He wasn’t looking for a fight; this was supposed to be a solution, _the_ solution. This was supposed to fix things. But his words are like daggers. Sunwoo is visibly heartbroken, and the fact that he’s not even trying to hide it hurts so fucking much, it knocks the wind out of Haknyeon. “No, that was not—Sunwoo, I’m sorry—”

“I love you. I actually, really love you, Hak,” Sunwoo interrupts him to say, voice still low, small. He’s looking right into Haknyeon’s eyes, conveying as much honesty as Haknyeon has ever seen him do. “It’s not a crush, and it’s not a joke, either. But I’m not asking anything of you. You don’t owe me anything. You really don’t. And I can take the taunting, I can take the anger, I can take the blows, even, but this?” Sunwoo shakes his head. “I can’t take this, hyung. You can’t just do this like it won’t mess with my head, like it won’t give me hope for something that’s not—“ 

Sunwoo stops himself, looking over Haknyeon’s shoulder. Haknyeon turns around to see Chanhee there, leaning against the doorframe, eyeing them curiously.

“Everything good here?”

Before Haknyeon can say anything, Sunwoo goes, “Yeah. Don’t worry, hyung, it’s fine.”

Chanhee doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t look sober, either. He frowns, particularly at Haknyeon, just as someone comes right behind him.

“Chanhee, you left Kevin hanging there, dude,” Hyunjae says, trying to pull Chanhee back to the living room with him. “Come on, let’s go back, what are you even doing here?”

“I wanted to check on them,” Chanhee says, indicating Sunwoo and Haknyeon with his chin. “I don’t trust this... You’re gonna make him cry, Haknyeonie. _Again_.”

That’s enough of a cue for Hyunjae to try a little harder to pull him away. “And that is none of our business! Let’s go. Let them talk.”

Chanhee lets himself be dragged away, still glaring drunkenly at them. From behind him, Hyunjae mouths a _“Sorry!”_. They leave, but Haknyeon feels so ashamed after Chanhee’s words that he doesn’t have the courage right away to turn around to face Sunwoo.

It’s obvious enough that Sunwoo says, “It’s fine. He’s just worried.”

“It’s not fine,” Haknyeon says. He looks back at him. “Nothing about this is fine. Why can’t I stop hurting you?”

It’s an honest question, if a charged one. Sunwoo shakes his head, looks down. “I don’t know, hyung. I wish I knew.”

Haknyeon takes a step back, then another. He keeps a distance that he hopes spells out _I’m sorry_ , a way of showing he’s not gonna do anything stupid again. It leaves Sunwoo still by the sink while Haknyeon leans against the table.

“I’m really sorry. For just now. I wasn’t thinking.”

Sunwoo doesn’t say anything. 

“I didn’t mean to lead you on, though,” Haknyeon continues. He can hear laughter coming from the living room, and it sounds so disconnected from the charged atmosphere in the kitchen that it’s almost like hearing the sounds of a different universe. “I didn’t kiss you for nothing. I was actually curious.”

“Curious about _what_ , for fuck’s sake? Couldn’t you just ask—“

Haknyeon doesn’t let him finish, raising his voice, “I think I like you too! Ok? I know I screwed up several times now but if you’d just listen for a second—I think I know why I made that stupid joke in the first place.”

Sunwoo pauses. “You _think_ you know?”

“I wasn’t aware of your feelings, Sunwoo. Not sober me, anyway. I think I suspected it, but that’s it. That wasn’t me making fun of you, I’d never joke about it if I knew for a fact that you liked me, alcohol or not.”

“Then why would you—?”

“Because I think I wanted to kiss you!” Haknyeon says, exasperated that he keeps getting interrupted, that Sunwoo still sounds so hurt. “Which I didn’t even know I wanted to do! It just happened, I think being drunk and so close to you just fucked with the few filters I have left in my brain, I vomited the first thing that came into my mind. I was thinking about kissing you. I _wanted_ to kiss you.”

Sunwoo stares at him. “You did?”

It’s still guarded, it’s still Sunwoo hiding behind his anger and his pain, but Haknyeon thinks he can see the vulnerability through the cracks. The sheer surprise, in spite of himself. Haknyeon’s own emotions shift a little, too, towards the most tender parts of his heart. 

“Yes. It took me long enough to figure it out, but it makes sense. It explains a lot. Why I made the joke, why it hurt me so much to see you pull away. Because let me tell you, that hurt like shit,” he says with a sad smile. “It shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did. And I know that’s rich coming from the guy who punched you in the face but it’s true.”

“I had that one coming, so...” Sunwoo argues, and Haknyeon’s chest clenches painfully. 

“You didn’t. I mean, who cares if you did, that was awful, I shouldn’t have done that either way. I’m really sorry.”

They look at each other for a second, both too stubborn to give in, but Haknyeon knows they understand where each other is coming from. It’s a compromise of sorts; Sunwoo accepted his apologies long ago, and Haknyeon accepted that Sunwoo had pushed him towards the edge on purpose.

“So,” Sunwoo starts over, licking his lips. “What’s the verdict?”

“What do you mean?”

“You said you kissed me out of curiosity. Did it help?”

Haknyeon smiles, and this time it’s not sad, or pained. It’s a genuine smile. “I think it did.”

Sunwoo nods. “Don’t tell me.” He gives Haknyeon a tiny, tentative smile back, the first in God knows how long. “Think about it for a while. Make sure it’s not the alcohol this time around.”

“Fuck you,” Haknyeon says, but it’s good-natured, friendly. Sunwoo chuckles.

“I mean it. I can’t take a false positive,” he explains. “I wouldn’t be able to handle it. I’ve been barely holding on all this time.”

It’s desolating to hear, but it’s sincere, and Haknyeon appreciates that. He knows he has gotten things wrong enough times to be glad to have some clarity now. He nods, not sure what to answer with. Sunwoo studies his face for a moment before he steps closer again, closing the distance between them until Haknyeon can count his lashes.

“Can I ask you a favor?” Sunwoo says, lower than before now that they’re practically breathing the same air. 

Haknyeon nods again, “Yeah. Sure.”

“Can I kiss you? In case this is the last time.”

It’s telling how quickly Sunwoo went from asking him not to kiss him again to asking for it himself, but Haknyeon isn’t thinking about that. He will think about it eventually, when he looks back to the events of this night, but for now he’s thinking of how soft Sunwoo’s lips are, and how plump they look this up close. He’s staring, but he can’t even begin to feel embarrassed about it, because he’s suddenly so eager to feel those lips against his own, to kiss Sunwoo again, that he says “yes” and meets Sunwoo halfway when he leans closer.

He thought he knew what to expect, but the euphoria he feels now is twice as powerful. Maybe because Sunwoo is responding to it. Maybe because he was the one who asked for it in the first place. Whatever the case may be, Haknyeon feels his heartbeat quicken, body suddenly electric like the touch of Sunwoo’s lips ignites him from inside out. It’s absurd how much he enjoys it, he knows that in the back of his head somewhere, busy as he is cupping Sunwoo’s face and parting his lips with his own.

It doesn’t last as long as Haknyeon wanted it to. When Sunwoo pulls away, Haknyeon chases his lips one last time; they share a short, quick last kiss before finally pulling away for good. Sunwoo manages to keep them apart by touching Haknyeon’s forehead with his own, eyes still closed. 

“I won’t hold it against you if you decide this isn’t what you want.”

“And if it is?”

Sunwoo doesn’t answer. He pulls back, and Haknyeon wonders if he’s imagining things, or if it was really as hard for him to pull away as it was for Haknyeon to let him go.

“Thank you,” Haknyeon says before Sunwoo can walk away. “For hearing what I had to say. For giving me a chance even after I fucked up so many times.”

“You don’t fuck up that often,” Sunwoo says with a smirk. Haknyeon can’t help it; he smiles, hearing his own words from what feels like so long ago. Sunwoo grabs his beer again on the sink and goes for the door. 

Haknyeon is still smiling when he walks back into the living room a couple minutes later. He doesn’t need to say anything. Hyunjae takes one look at his face and smiles, too, pulling him in for a round of whatever it is they’re playing on the Xbox. 

Things don’t go back to normal exactly, but there is a shift. Sunwoo is still keeping his distance, and they’re not ever in the same room together just the two of them, but Haknyeon doesn’t feel as awful as he did before because of it. He understands it better now, why Sunwoo did what he did, why he pulled away, even if it wasn’t the best decision. Neither of them made particularly good decisions, but that’s the thing—they’re learning how to navigate this, bit by bit, and Haknyeon figures it makes sense it’s taking them so long. After all, they were used to learning things together. To do so separately is infinitely harder, and much more risky.

There’s a shift in Haknyeon’s understanding of himself, too. He thought he knew all there was to know about who he is by now, and how he deals with the world around him, but he was wrong. The more he thinks about it, about his feelings, about Sunwoo and their kiss, the stronger is his conviction that he could not have predicted any of this. He’s a little bit scared, because he wasn’t expecting to be blindsided by _love_ , of all things. Not him, who loves so much and so intensely, and who tries his best to externalize that love despite how hard it is for him to do so.

It’s scary to think that he was blind to his own feelings for so long—or was he? He can’t really tell when things changed, if they ever did. Had he always been in love with Sunwoo? He couldn’t have been, could be? But if not that, then when did his feelings change? _What_ changed? 

Deep down, he feels like nothing did. It’s still Sunwoo, with his smart jokes and an unrelenting unwillingness to wake up on time. It’s still the same guy who hugged him so tight that one time years ago, making Haknyeon feel like he could breathe again when the entire world felt suffocating. It’s the same guy who early on would save him his favorite chicken parts when the group would eat together, no matter how much of a fuss Hyunjae and Chanhee made over it.

They may not be the exact same people they were years ago—they grew up, for starters—but they’re still _them_. Especially Sunwoo, always reliable Sunwoo, who will put everything and everyone first, and still maintain enough determination to know he won’t be left behind no matter how many people come before him.

Haknyeon thinks about all of that and more for the next week. He talks to Hyunjoon, thanks him for helping open his eyes, and Hyunjoon is, understandably, very smug about it. But very happy, too. 

“ _You’re such an easy book to read, hyung. Maybe if you read more books you’d see that too,_ ” he says, teasing but fond (because that’s the way they roll, and has always been). “ _I’m glad you figured things out, though. Oh, and if you could please tell your new boyfriend to send me the lyrics he promised me before I give his songwriting privileges to Bomin, that would be great.”_

And even though he knows where he stands now, with growing certainty, he doesn’t want to rush things. It’s not just his own heart at stake, after all. Sunwoo was very clear: this means a lot to him, and he has been hurting for such a long time, the last thing Haknyeon wants is to add to that pain. Things are fragile enough as it is. Haknyeon knows it, and he’s determined to be careful, as careful as he can possibly be. For Sunwoo’s sake, but his own, too. He owes himself that much.

**juhaknyeon [17:48]:**

can we talk? are you busy?

**TBZ Sunwoo [17:53]:**

i’m not

and yeah we can

**juhaknyeon [17:53]:**

where are you? 

**TBZ Sunwoo [17:53]:**

vocal practice

**juhaknyeon [17:54]:**

can you come to the dorm?

no one’s home

**TBZ Sunwoo [17:54]:**

sure

give me a minute

In the fifteen minutes it takes for Sunwoo to reach the dorm, Haknyeon goes from pacing back and forth in the living room, to stopping himself from going into the kitchen to search for a snack to calm his nerves, to sitting down on the couch and scrolling through his YouTube feed and not watching anything. He’s nervous, and he knows why, too, but there’s nothing he can do about it. 

When Sunwoo unlocks the front door, Haknyeon tries not to fret like he’s about to confess murder. It’s just a conversation. He wants to talk, and that shouldn’t be so nerve wracking, but it is. He waits until Sunwoo has walked into the room to look up from his phone.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” Sunwoo says back, dropping his backpack on the corner by the TV rack and walking closer, slowly. “You wanted to talk?”

“Yeah.” Haknyeon locks his phone screen and sets it aside. He sits up, indicating the couch. “Wanna sit down?”

Sunwoo does. It’s a big couch, and they’re sitting on opposite ends of it, but that’s a good thing. Haknyeon wants to focus, not let the wrong kind of emotions take over. Sunwoo looks guarded, as usual. His expression is perfectly neutral, even though Haknyeon knows him well enough to read the apprehension in his eyes. He waits, and Haknyeon clears his throat, awkwardly, not knowing exactly how to start even though he has been mulling over his words for days now.

“Before I say anything,” he starts. Fuck, this is hard. How does Sunwoo talk so openly about his feelings? “I wanted to ask for your side of the story. Like. In case you wanna say something? Because I feel like most of our conversations have been either arguments or me trying to understand what was going on, and I don’t think you’ve had much of a chance to speak. If at all. I didn’t even know—“

He stops, sighs. Sunwoo asks, “What?”

“I didn’t even know you had cried. When Chanhee hyung said I was gonna make you cry again, what—When did I do that? Was he talking about that time in my room? When I switched places with Jacob in the choreography?”

Sunwoo shakes his head. He gives him an embarrassed smile. “I didn’t tell him about that.”

“Ah.”

Haknyeon doesn’t say anything. He waits. Sunwoo looks down at his fingers, saying, “I cried a few times. Chanhee hyung saw some of them. He’s a good friend,” he adds, nodding as if to emphasize what he’s saying. “No wonder he was worried, I was a mess. I didn’t think we were gonna recover from it.” 

He looks up, meets Haknyeon’s eyes. The corner of his lips turn up, in a tiny, guilty smile. 

“I thought that was it for us. Our friendship was over in my head, and that hurt so much. Not just because I consider this group my family, but because I thought that was all my fault. You know? I thought I had ruined our friendship by falling in love with you.”

Again, it amazes Haknyeon how the words come easy to him, past his lips like Sunwoo isn’t afraid to be this vulnerable, this honest. He should’ve known, of course—Sunwoo has always been this passionate, facing everything with as much heart as anyone, but it’s still amazing because now that Haknyeon needs to talk about _his_ feelings, he knows firsthand how hard it is. Haknyeon needs to consciously make an effort to keep his breathing even given how hard his heart is beating in his chest.

“When did you know?” Haknyeon asks.

Sunwoo thinks for a second. “Honestly, I don’t know. But I couldn’t deny it any longer once I realized I was writing songs thinking of you. That’s pretty damn obvious.” 

“Berry,” Haknyeon blurts out. 

Sunwoo nods. “You saw that?”

“Not the live,” Haknyeon explains. “I saw it on the computer at the studio. It was… good, but kind of eye-opening, in a way?”

“So you knew.”

“I didn’t. Not really. I had my suspicions, but why would I have any reason to believe it was about me?”

“Because it _is_ about you.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t know that. And I wouldn’t have even heard the song if we weren’t—“ His voice dies down as an idea pops into his head. “Does Eric know?”

“Are you asking me if I’ve told him? No, I haven’t. Does he know?” Sunwoo shrugs. “I haven’t told him myself but we talk enough and he pays enough attention to have figured it out by himself, probably.”

Haknyeon thinks for a moment. “Have you told anyone?”

“Chanhee hyung. Jacob hyung. Daehwi, because he’s a mind-reading wizard and I can’t lie to him,” Sunwoo chuckles. “That’s it.”

“I told Hyunjoon,” Haknyeon says, because it’s only fair. 

Sunwoo doesn’t look surprised. “And what did he say?”

“That I was an idiot,” Haknyeon jokes, making Sunwoo smile. “Not with so many words, but pretty much that I was an idiot for not seeing what was right in front of me.”

“Your dear friend pining for you in silence like a dumbass?”

Haknyeon shakes his head. “The mirror.”

Sunwoo looks at him but doesn’t say anything. This is it. It’s Haknyeon’s turn now, and he feels so nervous to do this again, open his chest and let someone else peek into feelings he doesn’t fully understand himself. But it’s Sunwoo, he reminds himself. They’ve seen each other at their worst, and trying to avoid an honest, sincere conversation is only gonna complicate things. They know that all too well now.

“I think I love you too,” he says, then stops, corrects himself: “I love you too, Sunwoo. I’ve always loved you, really, because I already loved you as a friend since forever. But this is—It’s different. But not, at the same time, if that makes sense? I don’t know how to explain it. I love you, like I’ve always loved you, but I want more. You know? Like. I wanna kiss you, and I wanna be with you, and I want—I don’t know. I want you.”

Sunwoo is trying to keep his expression neutral, but it’s clear he’s failing. The corners of his lips are turning up again as he says, “Are you sure?”

Haknyeon shifts closer to him on the couch. Not too close, just enough that he can take Sunwoo’s hand in his. Sunwoo looks down at his hands and back up at Haknyeon again, hope blossoming in his eyes in the most beautiful, sweet way. “I’m sure. Sorry it took me so long to figure it out, though.”

“You’re still in time,” Sunwoo says, and it’s tender, soft, a letting of his guards down that melts Haknyeon because it’s been a while since Sunwoo has done that around him. It’s not until they’re gone that Haknyeon notices how many walls Sunwoo had put up around himself and around his heart. “And sorry if I didn’t make the process any easier.”

“You didn’t, but neither did I, so,” Haknyeon shrugs, making Sunwoo laugh. “We’re even. We can start over.”

“I don’t want that,” Sunwoo says. With the look of surprise in Haknyeon’s eyes, he brings the hand he’s holding up to his lips, leaving a kiss there. He’s never done that before; Haknyeon‘s heart does a weird flip. “I think it’s good that we have some baggage. We can learn from those mistakes.”

“Like, big lessons such as ‘hitting people in the face is bad’?” Haknyeon goes for a joke, since he’s giddy and a second away from giggling like an idiot. 

“Like I should never have said what I said to you that time,” Sunwoo says, seriously. “I never had a chance to properly apologize for saying those things. But you’re none of that, Hak. I hope you know that. You’re not empty, never were. And I’m sorry I said that. I was trying to hurt you, because I was hurting, and that’s messed up. But I hope you know that you’re not fake, or empty, or any of the shit I threw at you.” 

Haknyeon doesn’t know what to say. It’s a lot, because even though he knew that already—that Sunwoo had said those words to hurt him, that they were meant to cut deep and sting like venom—it’s still something that has been haunting him ever since. The idea that he’s not capable of loving as he should, of demonstrating that love and making the people he cares about feel cherished. He doesn’t know what Sunwoo sees in his face, but he shifts closer, cupping Haknyeon’s cheek.

“You’re none of those things,” he repeats, brushing his cheek with his thumb. “You’re the most amazing person I know, Haknyeon. And you have a beautiful heart, and anyone who knows you knows that. I hope you do, too. I’ve known that since we first met, and you’ve only proved me right since then. And I’m really fucking sorry if I ever made you doubt that.” 

Haknyeon kisses him, because there’s no word in his vocabulary to express what he’s feeling right now. He kisses Sunwoo and lets every bad thought slip away—the worry, the anxiety, the nervousness—until all he can think about is Sunwoo’s lips on his, his hands, his warmth. It feels, surprisingly enough, like he’s finally home. He thought that was a given already—he _is_ at home, THE BOYZ is his home, and Sunwoo, part of the group and part of his life, is home, too. But this feels as if he’s coming home after being away for so long. As if he’s coming home to himself. Everything falls in place, then. He’s whole again, he’s at peace, and he’s got Sunwoo with him, so really, they will be fine.

And they are fine.

It would be wrong to say things go back to normal, in Haknyeon’s opinion, because while they do go back to how they were before their fight—they aren’t weird around each other anymore, and Sunwoo isn’t avoiding him—it’s also a new normal.

It’s waking up to a sleepy Sunwoo climbing into his bed to get five more minutes of sleep after Kevin wakes him up, snuggling against Haknyeon like he’s a big teddy bear.

It’s playing with Sunwoo’s fingers under the table when they’re idle, waiting in a conference room for the filming crew that’s fashionably late at this point, and catching Sunwoo’s smile with the corner of his eyes, because he likes it when Haknyeon is the one initiating physical contact, even though he never said those words himself.

It’s letting Sunwoo sleep on his shoulder when they’re coming back from their schedule late at night, knowing he’s exhausted, and making sure Sunwoo’s phone doesn’t slip from his hands while he’s asleep. (Kevin, riding shotgun, catches Haknyeon’s eyes in the rearview mirror and smiles fondly at the sight.)

It’s seeing through the mirror as Sunwoo walks into the vocal practice room he’s in and closes the door, and looking up in time for Sunwoo to give him a sweet, upside down kiss, for no reason other than they haven’t seen each other since practice the day before, and “I love you, that’s all, do I need another reason?” before he slips back out of the room without another word.

They don’t keep it a secret, but they’re discreet enough because Haknyeon doesn’t like to act mushy around others anyway, and because they don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable. Haknyeon is surprised at the lack of reaction from everyone else, though. Aside from a very obvious (and happy) Eric, who keeps grinning whenever they as much as stand close to each other, no one is really that surprised with the developments. Sangyeon looks relieved, promising to buy Haknyeon a drink as soon as the world isn’t in shambles anymore, and Hyunjae cracks a few third-wheeling jokes whenever they play games together, but that’s about it. 

“It was gonna happen sooner or later,” Hyunjae says one night, when Haknyeon explains his confusion to him. “I mean, the two of you. There were three possible scenarios: one, you stayed close friends while Sunwoo pined for you in silence, forever. Two, you broke your friendship off, and we all know how that would’ve worked out. You were insufferable for the first half of the year. Or three, you two got together eventually, like we all thought you would.”

“ _All_ of you?”

“Well, me,” Hyunjae corrects himself. “And Eric. And Chanhee, but don’t tell him I said that. I don’t even think he remembers the time we talked about this back in 2017.”

Haknyeon chokes on his stew. Hyunjae pats his back sympathetically. “You talked about Sunwoo and I in _2017_?”

“Literally everyone did.” When Haknyeon just stares at him, wordlessly, Hyunjae laughs. “You two were the picture of middle school romance, Haknyeonie. It was cute. He was smitten from the get-go. Of course everyone else noticed it. And you know that, we used to joke about it all the time.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t know you meant it.”

“There’s a grain of truth in every joke,” Hyunjae says, and Haknyeon knows he’s mostly saying it for shits and giggles, but his eyes go soft when he adds, “I guess we’re all just happy it worked out the way it did. This is the best case scenario, really. I’m happy for you.”

Haknyeon himself is happy, too. There were doubts, because there always are, and fear, because there always is, but he was right to feel like everything fell in place that day at the dorm. He feels closer to Sunwoo, and more attuned to his own feelings, too.

The first few months are of growth, for both of them. There are no big fights, because whenever they feel an argument coming, they do their best to navigate it without it escalating like it used to. Haknyeon himself feels less embarrassed to talk about his feelings; he jokes that it’s because Sunwoo is such a sap, it’s starting to rub off on him, but it’s more than that, of course. It’s the fact that he feels safe to do so, even more by watching Sunwoo pour all of his feelings out on a daily basis. He thinks he’s making progress with the way he shows his appreciation for his friends, too, which makes him incredibly happy. 

(He makes Juyeon cry one day when he surprises him with a box of cupcakes in the dressing room. Granted, Juyeon is stressed out of his mind, and maybe he had a low blood sugar situation going that morning, but still. Juyeon is so grateful that Haknyeon remembered that was his favorite bakery, and Haknyeon is so grateful that Juyeon is there to help the whole survival thing be a bit more bearable, that they forget for a moment why they were even stressed in the first place. Haknyeon laughs at his tears. Juyeon hugs him tight. Changmin cackles in the background, finding the whole thing hilarious.)

The world is still weird when November rolls around, but the sky looks pretty, and they have enough reasons to celebrate being where they are. Particularly, Haknyeon has more than enough reasons to smile, seeing Sunwoo frozen in place, staring at the horse in front of him like it’s an unknown beast that will attack him as soon as he breathes.

“He’s a really sweet guy,” Haknyeon says, for the third time, holding onto the reins. “Come on, just throw your leg over.”

“It’s so high,” Sunwoo says. He’s standing on a mounting block, still not moving. 

Haknyeon looks around. The club isn’t particularly crowded today, so there are plenty of horses in the stalls. He asked for one he knew was more docile and perfect for a beginner. Haknyeon feels really proud of himself for bringing Sunwoo out here. Not just because he thinks Sunwoo might actually like horseback riding once he gets past his initial fear, but because he deliberated for a long time if he wanted to share this with someone else.

When things got hard, Haknyeon found horseback riding to be sort of therapeutic for him. He never really cared for it when he was growing up, more interested in running around than making an animal run for him, but there’s just something about it that helped him relax when his stress was at an all-time high this year. He thought he’d keep it to himself, a safe-haven for when he needed to be alone with his thoughts, and for a while he did.

But watching Sunwoo pet the horse’s mane now like one would a small dog makes him think he made the right decision. Haknyeon can’t stop smiling.

“It’s not that high. You rode a horse before.”

“Yeah. Years ago. For a total of four minutes,” Sunwoo says, not pouting exactly but mumbling like he always does when he’s being stubborn just for the sake of it.

“You don’t have to do this,” Haknyeon reminds him, again. “It’s not too late to be my personal photographer for the day.”

Sunwoo squints at him, and Haknyeon laughs.

“Come on, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“I could fall.”

“You won’t fall.”

“I could spook the horse.”

“His name is Ddoddo, and you won’t. Right, Ddoddo?” Haknyeon pats the horse’s neck then leans down, as if hearing something. He looks back at Sunwoo. “He says he won’t get spooked.”

“You speak horse?”

“Haven’t you heard? I’m a multilingual genius. Now get on this horse, Kim Sunwoo. Do you trust me or not?”

“With my life,” Sunwoo says, distractedly, still staring at the horse. 

Haknyeon tries his best to school his expression into one of a person who’s not completely in love with the idiot in front of him, in case someone is watching. 

“Then trust me on this, baby. I’ll be by your side, holding onto you. You’ll be fine.”

Sunwoo takes a deep breath, and finally throws his leg over the saddle. He lets out a couple of _ooh_ s and _aah_ s as he sits down and finds his balance, but isn’t too tense otherwise. He takes the reins, positions his feet, and looks down at Haknyeon.

“Don’t let me go, please,” he asks.

Haknyeon smiles, big and blinding, feeling his heart so full it doesn’t feel possible to fit this much happiness—this much _love_ —inside himself. 

“Never. I’ll never let you go, Sunwoo.”

**Author's Note:**

> "tried to hold onto clouds  
> but I couldn't hold onto your sky  
> in the dark night sky,  
> the moonlight pours into your eyes  
> without you I can't breathe  
> in the emptiness  
> I stood up because you, who saved me, is here  
> [...]  
> the reason why the whole world lit up  
> I'm looking for you even if I'm faraway  
> I won't give up"
> 
> _blue sky - oneus_


End file.
